


Safe Out of Sight

by nicoli_boli



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Adventure, Bromance, Coming of Age, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Ireland, Running Away, Stranded, Viking Raids, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-10 02:12:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2007081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicoli_boli/pseuds/nicoli_boli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He’d never feared being a disappointment, as it was essentially guaranteed every time he stepped outside. Now that he was on a pedestal, he actually had somewhere to fall." When Hiccup and Toothless find themselves stranded far away from home, Hiccup is forced to confront the reality of his changing life on Berk before he finds himself in the crosshairs of another warmongering Viking tribe. Post-HtTYD1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Although how can you know who you are ‘till you know  
> what you want which you don’t so then which do you pick  
> when you’re safe out of sight and yourself but where everything’s wrong?  
> Or where everything’s right and you know that you’ll never belong?”  
> ~ On the Steps of the Palace: Into the Woods

_Chapter One_

Gods, the air was amazing today. Hiccup closed his eyes and let the wind rush over his skin and through his hair as he and Toothless banked around a pillar of stone. They barely skimmed the surface of the water below before pulling up sharply out of their dive and ascending once again: separating themselves even further from the earth, climbing ever higher into the endless sky.

Hiccup let his eyes crack open, soaking in the infinite tableau of clouds and light around him. He would never grow accustomed to the distilled wonder that encased his mind, the weightlessness that lifted his soul; he was caught in a state of perfect enraptured bliss. Nothing could replace the sheer marvel of flight for Hiccup: not all of the possessions in the world, not even the return of the use of his leg. He would gladly give up his terrestrial mobility if only in exchange for flight. A boy and his dragon and the sky. He could never happily leave it.

Which was why he was surprised when some part of his mind recognized the receding light on the horizon. Hiccup exhaled as the weightless euphoria that coursed through his veins faded and his thoughts returned to the land he’d left far below. The sun’s position on the horizon told him the time he had expected to return had long since passed.

“C’mon, bud,” he sighed. “Time to head back.”

Toothless made no move to change course. Hiccup’s words must not have registered with the dragon, just as enraptured in flight as Hiccup had been. He smiled and reached to pat Toothless’ hide. “It’s later than I thought; we really ought to get back, bud.”

Hiccup was taken aback when he felt Toothless’ neck tense beneath his fingers. The dragon remained steadily on his course. It quickly became obvious that he had understood Hiccup’s wishes to return, but was determined to fly to the edge of the earth regardless.

Hiccup set to rubbing circles on the dragon’s neck, attempting to smooth out the rigid muscles. “Toothless…” He was cautious, troubled that he was unable to decipher his best friend’s unusual behavior. “We need to go back now.”

Silence hung in the dimming glow of the sunset as they flew steadily onward. Slowly, Hiccup felt the dragon’s muscles relax under his hand. Toothless released a reluctant groan before turning back in the direction of the village, abandoning the open sky behind them.

~~~

The sun had nearly set by the time Berk entered Hiccup’s view. Together, the pair swooped down, clinging to the outskirts of the village before landing. Hiccup quickly set to removing his riding gear, but found he was unable to work with his usual dexterity. He fumbled with his harness, his thoughts refusing to focus on the task at hand.

Toothless had been pining to fly much more frequently than usual in recent weeks. Each day he became visibly more irritable the longer he went between flights. While Hiccup enjoyed flying just as much as the dragon, the increased frequency left his body aching and muscles sore, especially those in his left leg. Maneuvering the tailfin with Gobber’s new design and his prosthetic required muscles Hiccup hadn’t even known he possessed until they began burning from the activity.

The overuse had become even more apparent in passing days as their flights progressively strayed further and further from Berk. But for all the dragons’ impatience and the lengthening flights, never had Toothless so adamantly refused to turn back when Hiccup wished to return to Berk.

While Hiccup certainly enjoyed spending more time flying together, he could not rid himself of speculations about the dragon’s strange shift in behavior.

“Hiccup!”

The shout came from the village as a hulking figure in brown furs lumbered toward them. With a gulp, Hiccup tried to discreetly finish removing his harness and shield the riding gear from Fishlegs’ view, but his efforts were futile. He had been caught.

“We missed you bringing supplies up from the docks this morning,” Fishlegs said as he came to a stop several paces away from them. “And afternoon.” He purposely averted his eyes from the riding gear that Hiccup had poorly hidden from view, perhaps only to give him the benefit of the doubt. Regardless, it was clear where he had been for the greater portion of the day.

“Sorry, Fish, I really didn’t mean to be gone so long.” Hiccup brought a hand up to rub his neck, slightly sheepish for so blatantly avoiding village work and leaving the others to complete his chores.

He honestly hadn’t intended for his absence to be an inconvenience, and didn’t think twice about leaving to fly that morning, so conditioned by years of his invisibility to assume they didn’t matter. The new value bestowed upon his presence was still uncomfortably foreign.

The people’s transformation from cold and distant to welcoming had come much too rapidly, seeming to occur in an instant when his back was turned. Hiccup hadn’t completely adjusted to everything that had so drastically changed while he lay unconscious in bed recovering from the battle with the Death and he wasn’t sure he ever would.

“I might cut back just a little on the all-day flights if I were you,” Fishlegs offered, smiling half-heartedly.

“I’ll try, but this one might throw a temper tantrum,” Hiccup jibed at Toothless, who promptly lifted a paw and stomped on his human’s good foot in response. Hiccup yelped and glared at the reptile who merely stared back with half-lidded eyes, utterly unrepentant. Evidently, the dragon viewed the jab as equal payback for the boy’s insult. Hiccup, however, did not agree, and aimed to throw an elbow into the dragon behind him,  but ended up on his rear on the ground when his target shifted nonchalantly out of the way.

Fuming, Hiccup shot Toothless another glare from the ground. The dragon merely looked smug; clearly pleased that he had made his point. “I see very little fish in your future,” the boy hissed through gritted teeth. Exasperated, Toothless whuffed and obliged to help his human to his feet with a swoop of his tail. It was Hiccup’s turn to look smug, to which the dragon nearly rolled his eyes. Threatening his supply of fish. Low blow.

Fishlegs, who had failed to respond to the fiasco as it unfolded before him, continued to stand unmoving before the bickering pair, keeping his eyes to his feet where they shifted back and forth on the ground.

“Fishlegs, was there something you wanted to tell me?” Hiccup asked. Fishlegs continued to stare uncomfortably at the ground, willing to focus on anything but Hiccup. Something was up. “Fish…” he pried.

“Ah…um, I was kind of sent to let you know that you’re sort of supposed to go…um…” he trailed, still not looking at Hiccup, dragging a toe awkwardly through the dirt.

“Fishlegs…”

“Your dad wants to talk to you,” Fishlegs mumbled quickly. Hiccup internally groaned. “He just said to send you as soon as…well, whenever you decided to reappear.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Fish,” Hiccup said, managing half a smile, but he could not keep the unease from his voice. If his father had gone as far as to send a messenger for him, nothing good could be in store. Fishlegs only nodded as he turned back toward the village square.

From where he stood at the forest’s edge, Hiccup stared after the boy, watching him disappear into the heart of the town. He exhaled slowly as the full weight of what awaited him upon his return home pressed down on him. He remained rooted to the spot, partially due to his aching muscles from the day’s ride, but also to prolong his time away from the impending lecture from his father.

His father’s lectures had certainly changed since the battle with the Green Death. The condescension and scathing disappointment that previously permeated his words had seemingly melted away. Everyone had seen his distinct transformation and now knew that Stoick held his son in the highest regard and only spoke of him with great pride. However, that pride came with expectation, which almost pained Hiccup more than the disappointment. He wondered if, had he not wished so dearly for the positive regard of the village and attention of his peers for the majority of his life, he would resent that too.

A nudge to his back halted Hiccup’s downward spiraling thoughts. He turned to see Toothless peering at him with wide, concerned eyes. The dragon was troubled that the boy had been quiet for so long; it almost always meant something was amiss. He continued to nuzzle the boy until the morose scowl left his features.

Hiccup managed a laugh. “Thanks, bud.” Despite his newfound acceptance from his father, friends, and potential girlfriend, the dragon still understood him better than any person he knew. He smiled, lifting a hand to scratch behind the dragon’s ear-plate, at which Toothless gurgled happily. “Nothing I can do about it now except go see what he has to say,” Hiccup sighed, resigning to head toward his house and the unavoidable stern talking-to from his father that waited for him. He gave Toothless a final scratch behind the ear-plate as a bid goodnight before turning toward the village square.

Before he could take more than two steps, he felt a tug at his back. Toothless nipped at his tunic, preventing him from progressing any further. Hiccup eyed the dragon, bewildered by yet another display of uncharacteristic behavior from him that day.

“Toothless, what’s wrong?”  He knelt to rub the dragon’s neck in soothing, reassuring circles, but Toothless kept his human rooted to the spot, staring at him with wide, almost pleading eyes.

His boy had been in such high spirits flying all day. In the sky, they left every discomfort that plagued them on the ground far below them, indistinguishable from their view aloft. Toothless could feel the weight returning to his clan brought upon his boy. It radiated from him, nearly tangible as it hung between them in the still night air. A burden.

The dragon wanted nothing more than to liberate his human, to allow him to always feel the same weightlessness he felt so poignantly in the sky, the freedom they both adored.

For the life of him, Hiccup could not fathom what Toothless was trying to communicate.  Uneasiness settled more firmly in his gut. “I gotta get home, bud. I promise we’ll go flying first thing in the morning, okay?” He grunted as he freed the hem of his tunic from the dragon’s maw and sighed as he moved to scratch the bridge of his snout. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, wishing more than anything for the disappointment coloring the dragon’s features to disappear. When his efforts left Toothless’ expression unchanged, Hiccup let his hand fall and turned once again from his dragon and toward his house. This time, no tug on his tunic prevented him from reaching the village square.

Upon stepping onto the stone of the village square, Hiccup turned just in time to see his dragon dart away into the wood. He disappeared between the trees, putting even more distance between himself and his human than before.

~~~

Hiccup stared at his front door: at the wood in particular, marveling at the pattern of the grain, how it wove in and out of itself, an intricate dance choreographed by nature and intertwined with the life of the tree itself.

The longer Hiccup pondered the beauty of the wood grain and its symbolic meaning within the macrocosm of life, the more he realized he was stalling. And pathetically at that. He lifted a hand, poised to latch onto the door handle, but let it hang frozen in midair. He grimaced. The thought of entering his own house should not have paralyzed him so. But he was not only entering his house; he was entering the same room as his father, who had made it perfectly clear that he had a bone to pick with his son.

Despite having earned his father’s acceptance, fear of disappointment was still present in their recovering relationship, and frequently made itself known in the stagnant pauses that still managed to permeate their relatively infrequent conversations. One of which just happened to loom before him beyond the door that he occupied himself with. Hiccup decided that he’d like to face it sooner rather than later.

Once again, he drew in breath from the cold air and reached forward to grip the door handle. However, just as his fingers brushed the brass, the door flew open in front of him. He didn’t need to look up to know his father’s broad, imposing frame filled the doorway.

“Ah, there yeh are, son.” Hiccup released some of his held breath upon hearing more relief in his father’s tone than the anger he had expected.

“Hi, dad,” he offered, utterly unable to think of anything more eloquent to potentially explain his day-long absence. Stoick moved from the doorway to return to tending the fire burning in the center of the room, allowing Hiccup to step inside. As he turned to close the door, Hiccup noticed that his father continually shifted his weight, appearing very much unsettled rather than enraged.

Stoick resigned to sit in his chair by the fire, but did not look up from the floor nor make eye contact with his son. Overwhelming disappointment permeated the dank air of the room, and Hiccup felt guilt claw its way up from the pit of his stomach up to his throat. His father’s solemnity was worse than any degree of severity he could have unleashed.

“Dad, I know that this looks bad and I know I messed up, but I really wasn’t trying to. I mean, I just wasn’t thinking and…”

“Hiccup.” Stoick held up a hand to stop Hiccup from fumbling over himself any more in haphazard explanation. The boy immediately pressed his lips together, relinquishing any attempt at excusing his absence. His father lifted his gaze from floorboards to look his son in the eyes.

Hiccup was taken aback to see, not frustration or exasperation, but hurt in his father’s expression. “The others had tae complete yer village tasks today.” The guilt in Hiccup’s throat thickened, preventing him from speaking. “Yeh cannot just decide to leave without tellin’ anyone where yeh’re goin’ or when yeh’re comin’ back.” Stoick sighed. “I understand the treatment yeh’ve been used to, but our lives are different now, changed for the better because of yeh, Hiccup. Yeh _do_ understand that, son?”

Stoick paused to gauge his son’s comprehension, hoping the boy could see where he was coming from. “These people are open now tae look to yeh for leadership, an’ have accepted yeh as their future leader.”

Hiccup’s stomach dropped. Oh, Gods.

“It’s time yeh prepare for yer future role as chief.”

No. Nonono, this was not supposed to happen. Not yet, not now. The subject of Hiccup’s eventual inheritance of the chiefdom was one that had been carefully maneuvered around throughout the larger portion of his life; the thought of Hiccup the Useless one day ascending to chiefdom had, until very recently, struck fear in the hearts of the Hooligans.

It was Hiccup’s understanding that he was unanimously regarded as unfit for the job and the chiefdom would eventually be held by Snotlout, the next qualified heir in their bloodline. At least, that was the plan until his recent promotion to Hiccup the Useful via a few lucky shots at the terrifying mother of all dragons and a peg leg.

The premise had previously been so thoroughly avoided that, while it lurked somewhere in his subconscious mind, he nearly forgot that he would have to face the topic with his father in light of recent events.

“I’m not a leader, dad…” he tried weakly, desperately attempting to steer away from the topic.

“Yes, yeh are,” Stoick insisted. “Yeh’re ready to start takin’ on more of a leader’s responsibilities.”

“Actually, I’m about one-hundred percent sure that I’m not.”

“It’s time, Hiccup,” Stoick boomed, firm and unmoving. Hiccup was immediately taken back to the last time his father stood before him like so: insistent, unrelenting, too set in his ways to even hear his son’s input. Only after leading his men into a catastrophic battle by way of his own folly did he open his mind. That and seeing his own son sweep with death and lose a limb in the process.

“This conversation is feeling very one-sided.” Hiccup spoke through gritted teeth, his voice low. Stoick’s expression softened as he recognized the reference to their conversation many months ago, from another lifetime it seemed. Never had he anticipated the far-reaching implications of that seemingly insignificant exchange. The chief exhaled slowly, doing the best he could to acknowledge the viewpoint of his heir.

“That’s nae what I want this tae be, Hiccup.” He stepped closer to the boy, willing him to glimpse some shreds of understanding in his expression. “The role of a chief is somethin’ yeh have to be willin’ to take on.”

Hiccup was silent, dying for the topic to be left alone.

“I’m not.”

Stoick was quiet as well. They both stood still as the tension between them became too viscous to bear. Stoick, releasing another long-held breath, turned back to the fire and set to adjusting the burning logs. Embers of ashen tinder and kindle glowed beneath the charred fuel. The silence had long since become excruciating, yet Stoick declined to dismiss his son, who stood awkwardly behind him, inching toward the stairs and cringing every time a new log was thrown on top of the fire. The crackling flames hurriedly engulfed the firewood, wasting no time in consuming their fresh offering of fuel.

“Think on it,” Stoick finally said, effectively ending their conversation. And with that, Hiccup immediately bolted up the stairs and out of sight.

The cold darkness of his room was wonderfully inviting after the insufferably arid heat of the main floor. Upon entering, Hiccup became painfully aware that he was both mentally and physically drained from the rapid succession of strange occurrences that day, and made a beeline for his bed. He flopped onto his back, aching to remove his prosthetic to allow the wound to breathe, but was far too fatigued to force his limbs to do so. In fact, he was far too tired to do anything beyond close his eyes and sleep. Therefore, he would not think about the prospect of being chief one day as his father had asked him to do (he wasn’t sure he ever would), and he would not think about Toothless’ increasingly odd behavior. He instead pushed his anxieties to the deeper recesses of his mind and let himself drift into a fitful sleep.

Downstairs, the newly stoked fire continued to burn. It devoured its freshly provided fuel until only glowing embers remained.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went a little symbolism happy. ‘Twas quite enjoyable.
> 
> Tried to include lots here for y’all to gnaw on. I drew a bit from "On the Steps of the Palace" from Into the Woods. Hopefully will be drawing some parallels there.
> 
> As always, constructive feedback is thoroughly appreciated!
> 
> How to Train Your Dragon © DreamWorks Animation and Cressida Cowell
> 
> Into the Woods © Lapine, Sondheim


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “And whichever you pick do it quick  
> ‘cause you’re starting to stick to the steps of the palace.”  
> ~ On the Steps of the Palace: Into the Woods

_Chapter Two_

Hiccup shivered and pulled his vest tighter around his shoulders. The crisp morning air whipped at his cheeks and stung his throat as he inhaled. Though slivers of sunlight shone through the clouds, the severity of the wind and the frozen ground clearly indicated that winter would soon be upon them. Hiccup was thankful that the impending drifts of snow had yet to show themselves as he trudged from the stables, where he had stored his riding gear from earlier that morning, to the smithy. But even for the lack of snow, Hiccup could feel the chill nipping at the toes of his right foot and noted he would need to replace his thinning boot soon. He nearly smirked at the newly discovered convenience of having only one temperature-sensitive foot.

There was a distinct lack of hustle and bustle as Hiccup made his way through the village square, an eerie silence broken only by the rhythmic clinking of his metal prosthetic against the cold stone. Though unexpected, Hiccup was glad for the solitude in which he made his trek. The silence that surrounded him allowed his mind to breathe, to unwind and enable thoughts normally stifled by the cacophony of his environment to flow. It was absolutely a godsend after the immense burden laid upon him by his father the night before.

After a restless night, interrupted repeatedly by the downward spiral of his subconscious, Hiccup had been relieved to be awoken by Toothless clawing impatiently at his roof. The early morning flight was the perfect remedy for his troubled thoughts. Physically separating himself from the earth had served to purify his muddled mind, to lift the heaviness that had so abruptly been thrust upon him. It was cleansing in the most profound way.  If “steps toward preparing for the chiefdom” were really going to be taken as his father had stated, he would surely be pining to fly just as frequently as Toothless had recently.

Realizing that flying time would likely become the only time he would spend away from the watchful eyes of the villagers, he decided that early morning flights should officially become routine; the rejuvenation of flight as well as the rare stillness of the village were both too breathtaking to neglect. That, and he hoped that remaining in the immediate vicinity of the village for as much of the active day as possible would prevent further berating from his father. Perhaps spending more of his time performing village duties could delay the institution of any “next steps” towards leadership. Thus, despite the bitterness in the air, Hiccup continued to trek towards the forge, where helping complete projects for Gobber would serve both to fulfill village duties and provide refuge from the choking tension welling up inside his own house.

Stepping into the forge and exchanging his vest for his smithing apron hanging on its hook by the entryway, Hiccup couldn’t help but notice the clean, organized condition of the main workspace.

Gobber evidently had not yet been in the forge that morning.

Hiccup glanced at the sun over his shoulder as he tied his apron around his waist. It sat just below the sea in the east. He guessed that Gobber, not the earliest of risers, would not be arriving for a while longer, leaving Hiccup time to focus on his personal projects. Time which had lately been in short supply due to the sheer quantity of riding gear that had yet to be made and redesigned for the majority of the village. While an excellent craftsman, Gobber’s experience with designing and constructing dragon-riding paraphernalia was severely lacking. Hiccup’s expertise in the area was crucial to creating functional riding gear for each new dragon-Viking duo in Berk. Though customized riding gear for each villager proved to be beneficial in adapting to their new way of life, it also proved to be extremely time-consuming, leaving almost no time for Hiccup to dedicate to his own projects.

He made his way to the back corner of the forge where a small area lay secluded from the openness of the rest of the smithy. He pulled aside the curtain that partitioned his personal workspace and grimaced. Contrary to the current pristine condition of the main workspace, his room lay in utter disarray: drawings and half-completed schematics cluttered the desk, papers were scattered across the floor and crammed into corners. It was thoroughly apparent that the workspace had not recently seen the light of day. Hiccup bent to the floor and set to shuffling the disorder into relatively organized piles, but he knew his efforts were futile. The mess had been neglected for far too long to be amended.

Hiccup was aware he had been lagging behind in his personal projects as a result of the considerable amount of time he spent off the ground, but he certainly hadn’t expected them to fall into such a state of disrepair. Dejected, Hiccup let the papers he had half-heartedly begun to gather in his arms fall to the ground and flopped onto his back. The sudden action created a gust of air that lifted several schematics into the air. They fell lazily about him, an imitation of the dying autumn’s last leaves.

One in particular floated above him and fell to rest over his face. Exhaling lightly, he reached up to move the paper from obscuring his vision and held it at arms length. It was covered in sketches, half-thought out dribbles of possible schematics that had sputtered and died out mid-creation. They all revolved around the same invention, each design tackling the device from a different angle, but each failed to turn into something that could become a physical reality. The idea itself was one that Hiccup was quite proud of and certainly would prove beneficial to both him and Toothless if he could just figure out a plausible way to go about actually _building_ it. He sat up, mulling over the dismissed designs sketched across the paper. Each had the potential to work, if only he could figure out a way to mesh them into a fully functioning design.

He paused. Jumping up from his seat on the floor, Hiccup moved to the cluttered table and brushed aside a jumble of plans to make room for the paper in his hand. He fumbled for a pencil and frantically set to sketching. Maybe he didn’t need an entirely new basis for his contraption, maybe he just needed to _mesh_ his existing designs together…

“Oi, there yeh are, lad! I was wonderin’ where yeh’d gone off tae yesterday.”

Gobber’s sudden presence in the entrance of his workspace nearly caused Hiccup to tumble off the back of his stool. A yelp escaped him as he spun around to face the blacksmith towering in the entryway. Having released a higher-pitched noise than he would have preferred to ever make, he coughed to ensure his next words would be much lower and masculine.

“I was…out,” he explained lamely. He kept his eyes down, doing his best to conceal the schematics he had been absorbed in just moments before. He was suddenly hyperaware of the implications of his design.

“I was thinkin’ that dragon o’ yers had carried yeh off,” Gobber called as he turned back to the main forge, situating a pair of tongs into the stump of his left arm. Hiccup smiled wryly. If only Gobber knew how close he was to the truth.

“Nah, I just lost track of time,” Hiccup replied, hopping up from his stool and following Gobber, closing the curtain to his workspace behind him. He would make time for his freshly inspired project later.

 He found himself forced to focus on obligatory tasks when Gobber thrust a half-finished saddle into his arms.

“Well yeh best pay attention today. Those hides aren’t goin’ to cure themselves,” Gobber said, nodding to the piles of skins that were to become saddles. With so many villagers suddenly in need of them, the blacksmith’s stall had recently doubled as a tannery. Though inexperienced with the art, Hiccup had been learning more about the process as each saddle was completed. Included in the projects he planned to complete on his own time was an improved saddle for Toothless: one fashioned with better technique than his experimental version. But he also learned that the entire process of curing hide for leather was awfully time consuming, and responsible for the dilapidated state of his personal workspace.

“I’ll try my best,” Hiccup replied sardonically, moving toward the hides that that Gobber had indicated.  He set to work, glad that his mind would be occupied by the task for the majority of his day in the forge, disabling him from dwelling on his own troubled thoughts. However, before long, he heard the burly Viking across the stall cease working. Gobber was silent for a moment before sighing and turning to address the boy.

“Look, Hiccup, I know yeh’re not much interested in yer future or the future o’ the village…”

“Glad to hear you think so highly of me,” Hiccup deadpanned. Gobber was certainly not one to be roundabout in his manner of speaking.

“Yeh know thas’ nae what I meant,” Gobber reprimanded. He sighed again, and continued, speaking more softly. “I just want yeh tae know that, regardless of how yeh may feel now, yer father has good intentions.”

Hiccup groaned inwardly. This was the exact topic he was determined to avoid. It was following him, shadowing him throughout the village no matter how far he strayed from his house and father. As long as he stayed connected to the ground, anyway.

“Gobber…”

“Hear me out now, Hiccup,” Gobber interrupted. “He just wants yeh tae be prepared when the time comes. Tae be completely ready tae take on yer role.” He paused, debating whether his next words were even his duty to tell the boy. “He doesn’t want yeh tae be in the same position he was.”

Hiccup froze, dropping the hide he held in his hands and finally turning to face Gobber.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that yer father was forced to become chief before he was ready. He doesn’t want that for you.” Hiccup made no response; his throat was suddenly too tight, choked. Even if he had been capable of speech, he was at an utter loss for words.

Amidst the uncomfortable, infrequent relations with his father in the past fifteen years, Hiccup had never learned any specific details of his father’s younger years. Occasions on which Stoick spoke of his past were few and far between. When he did reminisce, it was almost always about Valka.

Hiccup had always imagined that his father must have been enthralled, honored to become chief, and thoroughly prepared when he did. To hear that in fact the opposite was true threw everything he thought he knew about his father out of balance.

“When yer grandfather passed, yer father was merely a young man. Don’ get me wrong, Stoick always knew who he was and who he was to become but…we all thought, including yer grandfather, that he’d have more time to grow into a leader before becoming chief.

“Stoick knows our lives are unpredictable. Yeh’ve already proven yer capable, Hiccup. He jus’ wants tae be sure that yer prepared when the time comes, whenever that may be.”

Hiccup couldn’t stop his head from spinning. His vision had become fuzzy, the stall surrounding Gobber sliding in and out of focus. The lines of his surroundings blurred, as did his conviction from the night before.

Gobber’s five minute tale had revealed more about his father than Hiccup had learned from the man himself in years. It explained his unwavering dedication to a chiefdom that began with less-than-exemplary performance. It explained his frustrations with an only son who appeared to be incapable of leadership. Most of all, it explained the pressure he put on Hiccup now that he had proven he could lead in the eyes of the village.

But not in Hiccup’s own eyes.

Turmoil gathered in the pit of his stomach, travelling further up his throat each moment he spent staring into nothingness, processing. He leaned on the workbench behind him for support.

Gobber must have seen the chaos whirling behind the boy’s eyes, for he strode across the stall and lifted Hiccup by the scruff of his tunic and set him firmly on his feet. Gobber considered him a moment longer.

“Go on,” said the older man, gesturing to the door with his head. Hiccup fought through his frenzied thoughts to comprehend.

“What?”

“Go on. I’ll cover the stall for the rest of the day.”

“But…but the riding gear and…” Gobber ended his protests by gripping the boy’s shoulder with his good hand.

“Yeh look like yeh could use a breather.”

Air was precisely what Hiccup needed. Air, sky, and nothing but sea below for miles and miles. Requiring no further convincing, Hiccup smiled gratefully before throwing off his smithing apron and bolting from the forge.

“Don’ get too used tae bein’ lazy now yeh hear?” Gobber called after the boy as he dashed away toward the forest. “Yeh best be here firs’ thing tomorrow mornin’!”

Hiccup couldn’t bother to respond with more than a wave; he was preoccupied with bounding towards his dragon as fast as his prosthetic would allow. His internal conflict was pushed to the back of his mind as he set himself to finding Toothless, then pure weightlessness in the sky.

~~~

The knot in Hiccup’s stomach returned as soon as he touched the ground.

It was sickening; the moment he and Toothless landed at the edge of the village square, he was thrown mercilessly back into the tumult of his conscience, the freedom that had flowed through every fiber of his being in the sky stripped away.

Though, Hiccup pondered, the weight may have even begun to set in not as they landed, but when it came time to turn back to Berk. Toothless had yet again adamantly refused to change course, becoming irate rather than saddened as Hiccup insisted they return. Upon landing, Toothless had almost immediately bounded into the woods without showing his human any playful affection or farewell as he usually did.

Hiccup reached up to stow away his riding gear on its shelf. The stables were empty as he continued to stand in front of his shelf, unwilling to begin the trek back to his house.

It was simply unfair. He shouldn’t feel torn between Toothless and his village anymore; that was precisely why he had found the courage to present his blasphemous ideas to an entire village of obstinate Vikings. He had sacrificed his leg, nearly his life, to make amends between lifelong enemies. Was that still not enough for the two halves of his soul to peacefully coexist? And if it wasn’t, Hiccup wondered if they ever would.

“Look who decided to come out of hiding.” The girl’s voice broke the haze in Hiccup’s mind, forcefully throwing him back into the outside world. He spun to face the stable entryway from where she had called. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, smirking as she shook her head. She was surprised she had even managed to find him given his increasingly frequent disappearances as of late.

“Oh…hey, Astrid,” Hiccup replied as she crossed the floor to stand only a few paces away from him. She appraised him, but was still unable to fathom the boy’s dazed expression. When Hiccup failed to continue, she sat back on her hip, determined to uncover the thoughts he was determined to keep out of sight.

“You’ve been disappearing,” she observed. “Again.” Hiccup acknowledged that he was falling into a routine similar to his frequent forest excursions from only a few months ago.

“Yeah, I guess I have.”

“You’ve been flying.”

“Mostly, yeah.” Hiccup ran a hand through his windswept hair, only succeeding in mussing it further. While he averted his gaze to the floor, Astrid looked directly at his face, silent. His eyes were dull and sunken from worry, anxiety emanated from his voice and posture. He was weighted and weary, but, more than anything else, tired.

“I missed you.”

Hiccup’s eyes snapped up from their focus on the floor to regard the girl, partially in surprise, but also to confirm the sincerity of her statement. When her expression revealed nothing but authenticity, the boy let himself grin, the simple action relieving an extraordinary burden from his chest. Astrid allowed a chuckle at his bewildered reaction. Pleased to have succeeded in lifting his spirits somewhat, she reached to take hold of Hiccup’s elbow.

“C’mon,” she said, nodding her head towards the entryway, “Let’s hear what’s on your mind.” She moved to the door, turning to the path that led, not toward the village square, but through the hills overlooking Berk. Hiccup, glad to have a human who was willing to listen, followed.

~~~

“Wow.”

“Yup.”

“Sounds like a mess.”

Hiccup merely nodded and lay back on the grass, resting the back of his hand over his eyes. Though it been particularly chilly early on, the day had proven mild for late autumn, and Hiccup savored what he knew would be the last warmth of the year before the snow swept in.

While wary at first, Hiccup found that reliving the confrontation with his father was unexpectedly freeing. He was surprised when Astrid proved to be understanding of his predicament, even sympathetic. Though her treatment of him had improved tremendously within the last month since their discovery of the nest together, he was still taken aback when the girl who had disdained him so since childhood showed him understanding and respect. Of course, he wasn’t complaining. He was sincerely fond of the gentler Astrid and was thrilled that she seemed taken with him as well, but it would take some time to grow comfortable in each other’s company.

Regardless, Hiccup was glad to have another human who genuinely wanted to know what was plaguing him and, above all, was willing to _listen_. Not judge or advise, but listen and understand. Her openness meant more to him than the eager attention of the entire village.

“What’re you gonna do?”

“I have no idea,” Hiccup groaned, still covering his eyes.

“Well, you’ve already exhausted the stupid and crazy options.” He could hear the smile in her voice. He lifted his hand to glance wryly back at her.

“I guess I’m out of alternatives then aren’t I?” he teased back. For the first time, Astrid threw her head back and laughed at his words.  He allowed himself to join, relishing the carefree moment amidst the mess he found piled upon his shoulders. Hiccup swore their laughter could have carried over the rooftops of the village and out to the cliffs of the shore,  ricocheting off the craggy rock faces and overhangs, bouncing off the rolling waves and out to sea far beyond the limits of the isle.

“Well, for now I’m sure Toothless is enjoying the ample flying time,” Astrid chuckled as their raucous mirth died down. Immediately, Hiccup was reminded of his ever more pressing dilemma with his dragon. Astrid noticed the distinct shift in his features. There was something else the boy was hiding that he wasn’t telling her. “Out with it.”

“It’s nothing,” Hiccup said as nonchalantly as he could muster. He could feel the heat of Astrid’s stare boring into his shoulder. He didn’t have to look at the girl’s face to know she wasn’t letting him leave until he explained himself.

But he looked at her anyway. Her eyes were blazing and her mouth was set in a stony grimace. Though, behind her dangerous glare, concern flickered in her expression. Hiccup had to remind himself that this was the new Astrid: the girl who had literally dragged him from his hiding place, who had just sat and willingly listened to his unfiltered anxieties and had _understood_. She deserved the chance to show the same understanding of his predicament with his dragon.

He exhaled, resigned.

“Toothless has been restless lately, antsy. We could be flying for hours, but when it’s time to turn back he’s so…reluctant. He’ll ignore me. Get angry even, lately.” Hiccup found Toothless’ behavior difficult to put into words, but Astrid listened on nonetheless. “I…he’s not happy. And he won’t even try to communicate what’s wrong.” He looked away from the girl and out over the rooftops of the village, focusing on the distant horizon where the sea fell over the edge of the earth.

 “I don’t know what to do, Astrid,” he admitted, lying back again on the grass and staring blankly up at the sky, which had proven only to be a temporary tonic for a more serious disease.

She was quiet, narrowing her eyes at the far-off spot Hiccup had been focusing on earlier. Puzzled as well, she reclined back on the grass as Hiccup did.

“Well,” she pondered, “if I were a dragon I wouldn’t be happy trapped in this village either.”

The ground beneath Hiccup tilted nauseatingly. The warmth of the air instantly froze, stagnant in his lungs, disorienting.

The rift between the two halves of his life was far more concrete than he had thought. It was obvious, so _painfully_ obvious, now that someone had actually said it aloud. The extended flights, the restlessness, the irritability: Toothless was a majestic beast chained to the life of a house pet because of his weakling, handicapped rider. And he was finally growing tired of it.

Suddenly, Hiccup had more problems than he knew what to do with.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blurdeblurdeblurdeblur. Astrid? Nice? Whaaaaa?
> 
> I tried to keep a bit of an attitude around her, but with a more caring touch.
> 
> Hiccup is sad ‘cuz he’s insecure and feels inadequate. I wonder what Toothless has to say about that. If he’d show up, which he didn’t really in this chapter. But he will I promise.
> 
> As always, constructive feedback is as well!
> 
> How to Train Your Dragon © DreamWorks Animation and Cressida Cowell
> 
> Into the Woods © Lapine, Sondheim


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “So you pry up your shoes…”   
> ~ On the Steps of the Palace: Into the Woods

****_Chapter Three_

Uneasiness still knotted Hiccup’s stomach when he awoke. The room was quiet, and unmoving save for the dust that lilted through the gray morning light that streaked through the chilly air from the window. The stillness wasn’t good for him; it made it far too easy for him to dwell on the guilt already rising in his throat.

Though itching to break the paralyzing catatonia of his surroundings, Hiccup found he was utterly unmotivated to remove himself from his bed. Well aware that he risked Toothless’ disgruntled wrath by being tardy for their morning flight, Hiccup remained unmoving, unwilling to avert his gaze from his ceiling. The ceiling which, he suddenly registered, failed to tremor with the incessant clawing of his dragon as it usually did when he awoke early in the mornings. Instead, it lay as eerily still as the rest of his room.

Instantly, Hiccup sat up ramrod straight. Despite straining his ears, he was unable to identify any evidence of Toothless’ presence nearby. Throwing off his covers, Hiccup moved across the floorboards to his window. The late morning sun glinted off of the snow that had fallen the night before, and hustle and bustle of Vikings moving every which way through the village square below confirmed the late hour.

Toothless hadn’t come.

Emptiness settled more firmly in Hiccup’s gut as Astrid’s words reverberated in his head. Trapped. That was how she had described Toothless’ current miserable state: chained to a miniscule plot of earth, a pitiful human settlement, by a crippled human boy. A crippled boy that, Hiccup registered, was responsible for crippling Toothless as well. Despite the incredible friendship that had grown between them against all odds, the mutual trust and understanding that extended beyond anything Hiccup had glimpsed with another human, he was unable to shake the guilt he still carried for unintentionally stealing Toothless’ independent flight. While it had occurred under circumstances vastly different from their present situation, he still carried the burden with him, a seed of insecurity planted somewhere in the facets of their relationship. Toothless never seemed to acknowledge the loss outright, but Hiccup still wondered if the dragon had ever truly forgiven him. Did dragons even forgive? Or did they clutch firmly to their grudges, prideful and obstinate? And if Toothless did harbor some resentment, why did he choose to show it now?

Hiccup gazed at the village square below his window, watching as Vikings buzzed to and fro in the morning sun, clearing snow from the square, tending to food stores, and making the final preparations to sustain the village through the winter. Though with the absence of the threat of dragon raids this winter, there were no grim or worried faces: only grins and amicable greetings exchanged between villagers as they completed their tasks, prepared for the cold for once instead of fretting over lost supplies and damaged homes.

Among the hubbub, Hiccup spotted the blacksmith, peering from the counter of his stall, clearly agitated. He thoroughly scanned the square, eyes narrowed, before releasing an exasperated sigh and returning to the interior of the forge.

Before he could finish wondering what perturbed Gobber so, Hiccup’s hand flew up to forcefully smack his forehead. Gobber was clearly searching for his apprentice who, judging by sun’s height and the degree of Gobber’s scowl, was extremely late. Darting from his window and promising himself to find Toothless as soon as he finished working for the day, Hiccup flung his fur pelt around his shoulders and flew down the steps as quickly as his prosthetic permitted. He cleared the bottom steps and crossed the few paces to his front door as stealthily as he could manage. Relief surged through him when he succeeded in making contact with the handle without any sign of his father; he must have been out in the village by this time. The rush, however, was short-lived when the chief’s voice stopped the boy dead in his tracks.

“Hiccup.”

The understated severity that rang in his father’s voice as he addressed him caused the boy to cringe. Reluctantly, Hiccup released the door handle from his grip. So close. He was literally steps away from avoiding talking about _this_ with his father again. Hiccup remained faced to the door, unwilling to turn to the gaping emptiness of the room between him and the chief. He desperately hopes his father wasn’t planning to discuss his impending “chief training”. Maybe he had a message for Gobber. Maybe he actually just wanted to hold a long-overdue natural conversation with his son. Maybe…

“I need to speak you.”

Of course he did. Hiccup heard his father rise from his chair at the far end of the room and cross the length of the room to reach his son, footfalls hollow and resounding on the floorboards. Exhaling, Hiccup turned from his escape route to face the man. Yet again, the expression there surprised the boy. He expected stoicism, a firm resolution to shape his features into a stony grimace that would have persuaded proud firs to bend to the man’s will. But there was only concern on his father’s face, a hint of cautious optimism shading his eyes. He wrung his hands, glancing downward before speaking to his son.

“Gobber tells me yeh’ve been hard at work in the forge as of late.”

“I-I sure have,” he stuttered. On top of Gobber letting his leave the stall early the previous day and taking on Hiccup’s workload, he had also lied about his absence to Stoick. And Hiccup repaid him by being terribly late. Hiccup grimaced, deflating as the thought piled still more guilt onto his already filthy conscience.

“I’m glad yeh’ve been takin’ our discussion tae heart.”

“I certainly have been…” Hiccup blatantly lied. This response inspired such pride in his father’s eyes that Hiccup couldn’t bring himself to revoke the statement: not with the knowledge Gobber had endowed him with, not with the new light shed on his father’s motives. His father genuinely wanted the best for him, wanted to see Hiccup grow into the chiefdom with confidence and ease, unlike he had when he was young and unprepared. Stoick just didn’t know how to make it happen.

“I’m proud of yeh, son. Yeh’ve kept up your end of the deal.” He clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder, and Hiccup nearly staggered under the weight it carried: expectation and undeserved belief. Barely looking up at the man, Hiccup managed an uncomfortable smile, but it read more like a wince. Unable to perceive the boy’s distress, Stoick continued. “Tonight is the last before Vetrnætr.” Of course, the Thing at which all preparations for the coming winter were finalized took place that night, the night before the five night festival that marked the end of harvest work and the commencement of the season. Hiccup had never been permitted anywhere near enough the Thingstead when the chief and his council delegated to know much more about the details of the assembly. Only those who were considered to be of important enough position were allowed to participate.

Hiccup felt the color drain from his face.

“No, no, Dad, please, not again,” he pleaded. His plan to lay low and adhere to his given village duties had horribly backfired. He was absolutely not ready to be shoved into this position, not at all ready to be relied upon by so many people.

“I want yeh to attend, to help with finalizing preparations: accounting for food and livestock, delegating tasks.” If he were to have any hand in these decisions, Hiccup was certain they would all starve. “Yeh’re ready, Hiccup.”

“I can’t…I’m not…”

“Of course yeh are!” Stoick’s tone was gentler than Hiccup had expected, more taken aback at the boy’s lack of confidence than anything else. He examined his son, shaking his head. “I don’ think yeh understand how much yeh’ve already proven yerself.”

Hiccup felt his patience thinning, disintegrating further with each oblivious comment from his father. He didn’t get it. Hiccup could see him trying so desperately to make the boy comprehend his point of view and agree with him, but he was disregarding Hiccup’s feelings. Even after his sacrifices in the past months, even after their conversation only a few nights before, he failed to understand where his son was coming from, and Hiccup feared he never would.

“No! You’re still not listening!” Hiccup snapped his eyes up from where they bore into the floorboards. “You don’t get it. I didn’t do any of this for the glory. Changing the way our village works with dragons, changing the way everyone looked at me, it only happened because I was doing what I had to do to protect Toothless.” _And stopping you from running headlong into disaster_ , he thought. The acceptance from his village, peers, and father would have meant nothing had it come from killing the dragon he captured in the woods as it traditionally should have. Hiccup was steadily becoming less sure it even meant anything to him now.

“I didn’t do it for myself. Nothing I did, nothing I do, is meant to _prove_ anything.”

Stoick placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder again, forcing him to look him in the face. “Aye, I am listening, Hiccup. I was a fool not tae listen before. Like it or not, yeh did prove something, son. Yeh showed everyone who ever doubted yeh what yeh were capable of. Yeh proved them wrong.” He paused, momentarily breaking eye-contact. “Yeh proved me wrong.”

The regret that tinged his father’s voice managed to reach Hiccup through his seething. The fact that Stoick had felt let down by his son for years, while thoroughly understood by Hiccup and the entire village, had never been spoken so plainly. Hearing the words straight from his father’s mouth enabled Hiccup to forgive him a little for the dysfunction their lack of communication had sowed in their relationship. For the first time, Hiccup saw the man openly struggling to do the best for his son, a rare show of weakness, and felt empathy.

“I want yeh there tonight, Hiccup.” His tone was low, gentle, yet authoritative. Hiccup knew he didn’t have a choice.

“I’ll be there.”

“Good.” Hiccup couldn’t bring himself to be angry when he heard the relief coloring the chief’s voice. Stoick returned to his chair at the far end of the room and emptiness flooded the open space. Acknowledging that he was now dismissed, Hiccup exited with much less fervor than before. The village beyond the confines of his house was no longer an escape route, but an extension of his prison.

~~~

Hiccup’s breath came in short, shallow pants as he worked the bellows, the cold air biting against the sweat that had formed on his brow. Quickly wiping his forehead on the sleeve of his tunic, Hiccup continued to work his arms; he had been repairing farm tools all day, and this was his final project.

Hammering the last piece into place, Hiccup smiled, satisfied. His work for the day was complete. He could go find Toothless.

A sudden clatter arose from the stall counter, causing Hiccup to nearly drop his just- finished project. He would not be leaving quite yet. Keeping his eyes down, Hiccup grabbed the axe that was dropped on the counter and studied it as he weighed it in his hands.

“Just want this rebalanced?”

“A kiss would be nice too, if you’re not too busy.”

Hiccup spun to see that it was Ruffnut who had spoken, her elbows resting on the counter, smiling coyly.

Unable to muster a response, Hiccup instead set to rebalancing the axe, eliciting a chuckle from the girl. He felt his cheeks burn at her laughter and did his best to focus on the task at hand. That girl could be so forward sometimes…

Abruptly, Hiccup paused in his work. The axe had certainly felt familiar, but he hadn’t recognized the distinct designs wrapping the handle until now.

“Ruffnut, why do you have Astrid’s axe?”

Again, the girl laughed, puzzling Hiccup even further. She was thoroughly enjoying withholding information, momentarily basking in the flirtatious mischievousness it lent her. When she finally opened her mouth to reply, a shout prevented her from speaking.

“Ruffnut! What the Hel are you doing with my axe?”

“None of your business!” Ruffnut called, suddenly scathing. Though Hiccup had known the girl for ages, he was stunned by the speed at which she could instantly alter her demeanor from flirtatious to violent: perhaps this was the reason her advances were so frightening.

“Of course it’s my business, it’s _my_ axe,” Astrid responded as she approached, coolly pulling the other girl away from the counter by one of her braids. Peeved, Ruffnut made a face at her, but strode away nonetheless. Hiccup released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“So, do you still want me to rebalance this?”

Astrid turned her gaze from the direction Ruffnut had exited to Hiccup and grinned. “Sure, why not?”

Hiccup set again to the task, glad to see Astrid, but uncomfortable given their most recent conversation. He had never been so honest about his anxieties and fears with another human being before. Was it understood that the conversation should not be mentioned, or was it normal to reference the topic again, to confirm that the exchange had actually taken place? It was a precarious position he had never found himself in before, and could do without experiencing again.

He heard Astrid’s footfalls as she entered the forge, wordlessly exploring the space. She stood with her back to him as he worked, musing over projects that hung across the back wall.  Utterly unsure of how to approach the topic with the girl, Hiccup settled to casual conversation as he sharpened the axe’s dulled blade.

“How’d this get so worn out?”

“Just training,” she replied, stretching her arms out behind her, still facing the back wall. Without the constant threat of dragon raids, it was unlikely young women would be necessary as warriors. Hiccup didn’t want to think about how she’d fare without the prospect of becoming a great shield maiden, and the ever more apparent one of becoming a homemaker instead. He wondered if she had even realized this, and, if she had, if she’d accepted it. Or if she resented him for it. “I’d like to stay in shape, you know?”

“Oh yeah, I totally get what you’re saying,” Hiccup deadpanned. He was clearly the last person who would understand her need to keep physically fit.

“Hey Hiccup, what’s this?” Her voice no longer rang clearly from the main forge, but was muffled as it would be from behind a curtain. Hiccup whirled around to see that Astrid had made her way to his personal backroom of the stall, where his designs lay plainly on his desk for all to see.

Hiccup wasted no time in crossing the forge. Letting the axe clatter to the ground, he darted to the backroom, whipping the curtain from his path. Astrid only had time to jump back in alarm at Hiccup’s sudden presence before he snatched the papers from the desk and stuffed them into the pocket of his smithing apron. Only when the papers were safe out of sight did Hiccup allow himself to exhale.

He did not look at Astrid, but could feel her gaze on him. She stared, stunned, unable to comprehend what papers could have caused Hiccup to react so forcefully. She tried to search his face, but he decisively avoided her gaze, almost guilty. There would always be, she realized unhappily, things she couldn’t understand about him. Astrid found herself unable to shatter the stagnant silence with any witty or blasé remark. She resolved not to press the boy any further.

“Could I have my axe? If you’re finished.”

“Oh. Right.” Hiccup shuffled back to the main area and bent to the ground where he had abandoned the axe. He grunted, struggling to throw its weight over his shoulder. He was pleased to find, however, that it was not as difficult it used to be. Astrid repressed the urge to snigger at his struggling, and instead reached to take the axe from him, tossing it easily between her hands. Hiccup could never handle a brute weapon like that with such ease.

“I hope you figure it out, Hiccup.”

Hiccup’s eyes snapped up from the axe in her hands to meet her eyes. While honest, they betrayed her confusion; try as she might, Astrid was unable to grasp what troubled the boy. She was content where she was, while Hiccup remained unsettled and frustratingly unequipped to handle the responsibilities and expectations being thrust upon him from every direction.  

“Thanks, Astrid.” His gratitude was bittersweet. Through no fault of her own, she couldn’t help him. He feared no human could.

With a final sympathetic smile, she strode past him to exit the forge.

Hurriedly, Hiccup threw off his smithing apron and hung it on its peg in the back wall. The curtain to his workspace hung open, still rustling from the force with which he had bolted through it. Decidedly, he pulled it shut and reached into the pocket of his smithing apron to retrieve his designs, quickly stuffing them into his tunic. He felt better with them on his person.

“Hiccup?”

He jumped at her voice; he was sure she was far from the stall by now. She leaned into the entryway, concerned and hesitant, unnatural for her. “Just be careful, okay?”

He smiled. “Can do.”

Smiling in return, she disappeared again from the doorway, leaving him alone.

And he was glad to be alone; he had business to attend to.

It was time to find his dragon.

~~~

Toothless lay resting in the cove, content to be curled up napping on the soft turf. However, he perked up at the noise that broke through the peaceful stillness as Hiccup clambered down into the cove and quickly moved to meet the boy.

“Hey, buddy,” Hiccup greeted, surprised at the dragon’s eagerness to meet him given his absence that morning, but Toothless thought little of it; he knew his human needed time alone to process whatever it was about his fellow humans that troubled him. Lately, flying had failed to alleviate the boy’s weighted disposition, seeming instead to only intensify it. While it pained Toothless to be unable to directly help shoulder Hiccup’s burdens, he did what he could to aid his human in the best way he could, be that constant companionship or personal space. Recently, Toothless had felt the latter was more appropriate.

He wondered, however, if Hiccup agreed. There was an uneasiness about the boy reminiscent of when he had first approached Toothless what seemed like ages ago: anxious, unsure of the dragon’s feelings. Concerned, Toothless moved closer to nuzzle the boy. Hiccup laughed, though the sound what tinged with nervousness.

“I’m happy to see you too, bud,” he said, reaching to scratch the dragon’s neck, but his fingers were tense, uneasy. In doing so, he dropped his pack to the ground. Toothless sniffed at the basket, and after one whiff immediately withdrew, taken aback. The pack contained no fish as it usually did. Toothless eyes the boy. Was this the reason for his human’s unnatural nervousness? Was Hiccup really choosing now?

“What do you say to doing some fishing tonight, Toothless?”

The dragon grunted in disappointed agreement, but quickly shook his displeasure; it was foolish of him to think the pack could have pointed to anything else.

He complacently offered his back to the boy, who proceeded to buckle his saddle. The boy’s fingers lacked their usual dexterity, moving over the leather with careful, measured motions. The caution with which Hiccup regarded him only proved to further perturb Toothless. Didn’t he trust him?

The dragon froze. Trust. That was what was missing from his human’s careful words and wary actions; there was a tension that Toothless could feel pulling relentlessly at the boy, threatening to tear him apart.

Hiccup needed to leave, for his own good.

“All set, bud?”

Toothless whuffed, bending to the ground to allow Hiccup to climb onto his back. He was pained even further when Hiccup paused before mounting, seemingly afraid to do so. Their fluid naturalness and ease they had together in flight was nowhere to be found. Their relationship was tangibly fractured by the conflict raging within the boy, and there was nothing Toothless could do to remedy the situation. He purred, low, concerned for Hiccup’s well-being. The boy smiled and patted the dragon’s neck. The gesture was warm, but still too detached to reassure Toothless.

“I’m alright.”

Toothless snorted. Lies.

Hiccup rolled his eyes, but was glad for the disbelieving response. Toothless was the first to blatantly call out this particular untrue statement.

“I will be,” Hiccup amended. His reassurance seemed to placate the dragon well enough for the time being, for he spread his wings wide. He crouched low to the ground, teetering on the thin line between earthly attachment and pure freedom. And then they were off.

~~~

Sunlight skipped across the waves and over basalt columns below them as it quickly receded over the horizon. Wind rushed through Hiccup’s hair and over his skin, erasing his mind. A joyful roar sounded over the rushing wind as Toothless moved to dive. Hiccup, consenting, shifted the tailfin and the pair dove sharply towards the rolling sea. Hiccup laughed, lighthearted and relaxed as the water steadily approached from below. At the last possibly moment, they pulled out of the dive, swerving around a pillar of stone and again ascending towards the clouds. They were in perfect sync, all insecurities plaguing either one seemingly obliterated by the open sea and endless sky. Though well-aware that the utter weightlessness that lifted his soul was temporary, Hiccup welcomed it with open arms. He would take what he could get.

The fleeting nature of his bliss became all the more apparent as Hiccup reluctantly registered the fading daylight. His presence would be required at the Thing soon, and, recognizing the basalt column formation below as the resting point from their very first flight, Hiccup realized that they would have to turn around. Leaning forward, he prepared to break the news to his elated dragon.

But Hiccup found couldn’t stop leaning forward. His weight suddenly was completely out of control, lifting him from the saddle, held to Toothless only by his harness. His stomach plummeted, head throbbing. The sky spun around them, melding sickeningly with the pulsing waves below and tilting rocks.

They were falling.

Hiccup didn’t have time to register the cause of their sudden decent, only that control was lost, irretrievable, and the rocky coastline was steadily approaching, quickly growing larger and larger, absorbing him.

Toothless roared and struggled in the air, flailing urgently to regain some control, but to no avail. They were going down.

And, Hiccup realized, heart leaping into his throat, they were going down separately. His harness, in their struggling, had detached from the saddle and now flailed uselessly in the wind.

“Toothless!”

The dragon had registered the boy’s absence at the same time. Roaring fearfully, he spun in the air and reached desperately for Hiccup. The ground was sickeningly close. He wouldn’t make it.

As Hiccup resigned himself to reaching the ground separated from his dragon, he felt himself pulled to Toothless. The dragon’s wings cocooned the boy seconds before they struck earth.

The shattering blow jolted through Hiccup’s body, jarring his bones and emptying his lungs. Hiccup felt the brute force of the impact before darkness took over his mind.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then they died the end.
> 
> Naw that’d be dumb.
> 
> Why’d they fall??? I’m not sure, I suppose Hiccup will have to figure that out later won’t he? That is, if he didn’t die on impact. Hooray for mood whiplash.
> 
> This chapter gave me so much crap. It just did not want to be written. I think it wanted to get Hiccup out of Berk just as much as Toothless and I did.
> 
> Any and all constructive feedback is thoroughly appreciated. =D
> 
> How to Train Your Dragon © DreamWorks Animation and Cressida Cowell
> 
> Into the Woods © Lapine, Sondheim


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You'll be better off there where there's nothing to choose   
> so there's nothing to lose…”   
> ~ On the Steps of the Palace: Into the Woods

_Chapter Four_

Stoick was pleasantly surprised. Never in Berk’s history had the hall buzzed with so much activity at the Thing that officially commenced the Winternights feast. The prevailing gaiety amongst the villagers was certainly a breath of fresh air for the chief, as winter was usually met with a shortage of food, ill health, and generally dismal moods from the Hooligans. Frankly, he was pleased.

As the chief took his place at the head of the hall, he nearly burst with pride. Tonight, his son was to take the seat next to him. Hiccup would aid in presiding over the meeting at his right hand, and, best of all, Stoick was confident the boy would do so with flying colors. Hiccup had shaken any and all doubts in his competence from the villagers’ minds; he was finally fit to lead in their eyes. He had earned the respect - admiration even - of his people, and Stoick was finally certain that he would grow easily into his position. Surely Hiccup would come to realize this in time, just as Stoick had.

For the time being, the chief decided, he had to focus on the present. His thoughts returned to his immediate surroundings as he surveyed the hall, searching the crowd for his son, but failed to spot him amidst the hubbub. Hiccup appeared to be late, as per usual. However, instead of becoming agitated, the chief chuckled to himself and shook his head. The boy would surely learn. Eventually.

In the meantime, the assembly would have to begin without him. Stoick rose to his feet, preparing to call the Hooligans to attention, but paused when the great oak doors of the hall creaked open. A chilly gust of air splintered the warm atmosphere of the hall as the door was slammed shut. Stoick grinned, preparing to call his son to his side, but it was not Hiccup who entered.

“Gobber,” Stoick addressed him, mildly perplexed. “I thought yeh were here already.”

“Aye, I was cleanin’ up the stall, puttin’ Hiccup’s repaired riding gear in the stables and such…” The man trailed, breaking eye-contact with the chief and biting his lip, suddenly unsure if he wanted to push the topic forward. He glanced around the hall as if looking for someone else to break the news for him.

“And?”

“And yer son is doin’ a fine job with his craftsmanship. Excellent work,” Gobber said quickly, taking his seat at Stoick’s left. Swiftly, he lifted his tankard to his lips, continuing to avoid direct eye-contact. This, however, did not deter the chief.

“Good tae hear,” he said, seating himself next to the blacksmith, whose face was still hidden in his tankard. “Yeh wouldn’t happen tae know where Hiccup is, would yeh?”

Gobber nonchalantly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nope.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“No idea?”

“Not a clue.” The blacksmith absently inspected his empty mug, ensuring that there was no liquid clinging to the bottom. Stoick raised an eyebrow.

“Gobber…”

The man turned, finally conceding to look at Stoick and sighed, resigned. “Hiccup’s riding gear was missing,” Gobber said, almost confessing.

For a moment, Stoick did little to mask the hurt from his features. He had really begun to believe that Hiccup was becoming more accepting of his role; he had been spending more and more of his time in the village and the forge rather than Thor-knows-where with his dragon. He truly thought Hiccup was taking his advice to heart.

This was to be Hiccup’s first official appearance at a Thing as his heir. As the future chief. And he was absent in favor of taking an ill-times joyride with his dragon. The hurt welling in Stoick’s chest quickly boiled into frustration.

“Yeh’re sure he’s not here?” His voice was low, gruff.

“Aye,” Gobber nodded. “I don’ think he’ll be joining us tonight.”

Stoick hadn’t truly needed the confirmation; despite how much he wanted to believe he had gotten through to the boy, he knew deep down that Hiccup wouldn’t be in attendance that night.

The brief confidence Stoick had felt receded again to worry. A day would come when his son would be obliged to not only aid, but to lead the village. He only hoped that that time would not come until Hiccup was properly prepared.

Again Stoick rose to commence the assembly. Though the meeting carried forward the same as any other winter, Stoick could not push the empty seat at his right from his mind. It glared at him from his periphery; a blaring omen that would not remove itself from his sight.

~~~

Pressure. That was all Hiccup could perceive in the blackness that clouded his consciousness when he finally came to: an immense pressure in his temples, his lungs, and his mind. Hiccup groaned, forcing his eyes open to take in his surroundings. His heart leapt to his throat when he could feel his eyelids working to stay open and still saw nothing but shadow.

“Toothless?” Hiccup muttered, fear making its presence painfully known in his racing pulse and shallow breathing even in his groggy state. Where was his dragon? Where was _he_? Hiccup attempted to identify his location, but found he was unable to recall much of the events preceding his recent awakening. He had gone to find Toothless in the cove, had chosen to go fishing in the final hours of daylight before his mandatory attendance at the Thing…

The anxiety that had begun to bubble in his stomach moments before boiled over into a full-fledged panic.

They fell. He and Toothless, the invincible duo had flailed and miserably crashed to the earth, forcibly dragged away from their blissful station in the sky and to a rude awakening on the ground.

“Toothless?” Hiccup called again, more desperation coloring his voice. Finding his strength, he tried to shift his weight, but the pressure encasing was him obstinate; he was not going to move.

In trying to use his muscles, Hiccup became painfully aware that his body was bruised and battered. Though certainly worse for wear, he was surprised yet pleased to discover he was not broken. Given the height from which they fell, he would have expected to be more severely injured, if not dead. As the pressure against him began to rhythmically rise and fall, Hiccup realized why he was alive at all.

“Toothless!” Hiccup struggled again to free himself from his place cocooned inside the dragon’s wings. Realizing his human had regained consciousness, the dragon folded back his wings to allow the boy to move. When feeling returned to his limbs, Hiccup jumped to his feet to check on Toothless. He immediately wished he hadn’t. With a grinding crunch of metal on metal, his prosthetic collapsed under his weight. Hiccup yelped in pain as he collapsed to the ground, the base of the prosthetic cutting into the healing wound of his leg. Toothless raised his head at the commotion, whimpering.

“I’m okay, bud,” Hiccup reassured him. It was the dragon’s well-being, not his own, that worried him at the moment. Before moving again, Hiccup sat to inspect his prosthetic foot. The damage resided in the spring mechanism that allowed the bottommost plate of the limb to rebound when he stepped. Without the spring, the metal foot dangled uselessly from the remainder of the limb. Hiccup grimaced. Until he could find a way to repair the damaged mechanism, he would not be walking without Toothless’ aid, let alone flying.

Folding his legs under him, Hiccup moved to ensure Toothless was unharmed. Scooting closer to Toothless’ head, Hiccup gleaned as much information as he could from observing the dragon where he lay. He saw no major external injuries, but the lack of movement other than the steady rise and fall of his chest worried the boy.

“How’re you doing, Toothless?” he asked, placing a hand on the dragon’s snout. Toothless gurgled at the gesture, but failed to show any further evidence that he was unharmed. Instead he rested his head on the ground and let his eyelids droop, appearing utterly exhausted rather than pained. Placated for the time being, Hiccup left Toothless’ side to inspect his tail, impatient to identify the cause of their fall.

Any and all hopes of doing so were dashed the moment Hiccup laid eyes upon the tailfin; at least, what remained of it. The fin itself was mangled nearly beyond recognition, the red main frame shredded to pieces by the rocks. Kneeling down to look more closely at the pulley system, he saw the base of the cord had been similarly dismantled upon crashing. Hiccup realized, frustration piling on top of his frenzied emotions, that he may never be able to identify the cause of their fall.

Now unable to attribute the malfunction to a specific mechanical error, Hiccup couldn’t shake the feeling that the recent stress on their friendship had somehow contributed to the fall. Even though he knew better, substituting any reason for the untraceable truth behind their crash eased his mind somewhat.

Running his hands across the mangled remnants of the tailfin, he grimaced at the destruction; it was beyond anything he could hope to repair without the proper tools at his disposal. Until Hiccup could access a forge, they were stranded.

Thankfully, Toothless’ harness was intact, saved by the wings that protected the dragon, as well as Hiccup, from severe injury. Once again, Toothless had saved his life. A wave of gratitude washed through Hiccup and he allowed himself to breath. If he was stranded, he was eternally grateful it was with Toothless. Together, they would be fine.

Hiccup’s attention was drawn again to Toothless when he perked up his head, seemingly responding to the boy’s musings.

Leaving the destroyed tailfin, Hiccup returned to sit beside Toothless, whose calming stare quickly soothed Hiccup’s unraveling mind. The unrelenting tension that had continually run through the dragon’s muscles for the past several days had disappeared. Though clearly still in need of time to recover from the ordeal, Toothless was more relaxed now than Hiccup had seen him in days.

Despite the pressure of managing a speedy return journey to Berk that now plagued him, Hiccup didn’t feel the same weight in his chest that he had been carrying in the village. His impending chiefly duties, responsibilities, and father’s expectations that had nearly suffocated him seemed distant to him now, unable to reach him where he sat with Toothless where the waves beat against the basalt columns under the peaceful glow of the night sky. The problems that vexed him now seemed simple in comparison, exciting even; mechanics and survival were things Hiccup understood, things he knew he and Toothless could face down together. He was confident that he could find a way to return to Berk before anyone even thought much of his absence. Leadership, attention, and responsibility, on the other hand, he was forced to face very much alone. And those were problems Hiccup could not yet grasp.

A gentle nudge to his shoulder brought Hiccup back to his immediate surroundings. Toothless had stirred and now lay on his stomach rather than his side, his head lifted and eyes fully open, piercing in the dark.

“Feeling better, bud?” Hiccup asked, reaching to scratch the dragon’s neck. In reply, the dragon awarded Hiccup a slobbery lick to the face. “Oh gods, ew! Toothless!” Hiccup protested, frantically smearing his sleeves across his face and hair to rid them of dragon slobber as best he could. Toothless, thoroughly amused, whuffed at his human as he swiped at his face. He wondered if Hiccup was aware of exactly how ridiculous he looked. Realizing his efforts were fruitless, Hiccup resigned himself to at least a day’s worth of smelling like regurgitated fish.

Genuinely laughing for the first time in what felt like ages, Hiccup gave his dragon a scratch behind the ear-plate. At least he could take Toothless’ actions to mean he was in good health.

“Looks like it’s pretty late,” Hiccup observed. The sky was speckled with stars, but the moon was not present among them; a new cycle was beginning.

Hiccup turned his attention to the trees that lined the inland horizon some distance from where they sat on the open rocks. They would have to seek adequate shelter in the woods for the night.

Understanding, Toothless rose, nosing his human to his feet as he did so. “Thanks, bud,” Hiccup said smiling, leaning on the dragon for support.

They were beaten, but not broken. They would get through this.

Together the pair slowly made their way into the woods, leaving the outside world behind them.

~~~

When the first streaks of sunlight finally broke over the horizon in the village of Berk, Stoick’s anger over his son’s absence the previous night disintegrated into worry. Somewhere in his subconscious, he had expected Hiccup’s absence at the Thing the night before. Even his failure to return when night fell hadn’t set Stoick on edge; the boy had spent the night outside their home before. But to still not return long after the sun had risen the following day?

Stoick would already be leading a search party in fear for his son’s life had he not been accompanied by the Night Fury. The fact that Hiccup left no clue to where he was headed did not make any potential rescue missions any more plausible. The easiness with which Hiccup could slip away from the village was astounding. The chief would have spent more time revering the ability if it did not prove to be so infuriating.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” The abruptness of Gobber’s voice didn’t startle Stoick, accustomed to the blacksmith’s sudden appearances. He stood calmly next to the chief, surveying the horizon from where the stood on the docks. Stoick knew better than to expect to see his son flying back towards them over the water, but couldn’t bring himself to move regardless.

“I know.”

“What’s botherin’ yeh then?”

Stoick kept his face turned towards the water, away from the other man. “Did I push him too hard, Gobber?”

“I’m not sure.”

Stoick grimaced. “I thought we were startin’ tae finally understand each other. I finally knew how tae do what was best for him.”

Gobber clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “It just takes time. He’s changed, Stoick. But so have you.”

“I know,” he agreed, finally turning to address Gobber. “But still…” He couldn’t help but glance back out at the empty sky.

“He’s going tae come back,” Gobber stated, reading the anxiety that creased the chief’s brow. “Hiccup isn’t the sort tae just up and leave.”

“Yeh’re right,” Stoick sighed, but the abruptness and mystery that surrounded the boy’s departure still perturbed him.

“He must have his reasons. He always does.”

“Aye,” Stoick agreed, grunting. “That he does.” His worries were needless; Hiccup would be back.

Though his nerves would fare better if it were sooner rather than later.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blah, filler.  
> I got this done quicker than I expected, but lots shorter.   
> Never fear, shit’s gonna go down. Eventually.  
> How to Train Your Dragon © DreamWorks Animation and Cressida Cowell  
> Into the Woods © Lapine, Sondheim


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Knowing this time I'd run from him,   
> he spread pitch on the stairs…”   
> ~ On the Steps of the Palace: Into the Woods

_Chapter Five_

An alarmed yelp shattered the stillness of the morning as it ricocheted through the trees when Hiccup was rudely awoken by a spray of freezing cold water to the face.

“Ugh, Toothless! Knock it off!” he spluttered, burying his face in his sleeves. The dragon would do nothing of the sort. Instead, he gulped another mouthful of water from the stream they had settled beside for the night and proceeded to grant the boy another icy shower.

Now fully awake and thoroughly exasperated, Hiccup ran a hand through his soaking hair.

“For the love of Freyja…”

The dragon chuckled. Hiccup did not.

With no hope of going back to sleep at this point, Hiccup sat up and stretched his limbs, yawning and rubbing sleep from his eyes. Toothless bounded away from him and down to the end of the stream, happily lapping up water. Hiccup chuckled, glad to see the dragon in such long absent high spirits.

Hiccup prepared to stand, intending to join Toothless downstream, but sat back down in the same motion. He held his left leg out in front of him, the metal footplate dangling uselessly at the end of his prosthetic. Though often frustrating, Hiccup had slowly grown used to the handicap. Making adjustments to Toothless’ harness had helped him regain some of the smooth control he used to have in flight, and having the proper tools at his disposal had rendered the prosthetic’s occasional mechanical failure a minor hindrance. Little by little, the loss was something that Hiccup was steadily learning to accept; after all, he had gained so much more. If he were given the choice again, he knew he would choose the same path in a heartbeat. Only here, now, did the broken prosthetic truly prove to be a serious complication.

Toothless had returned from the stream to crouch at Hiccup’s side, a fish wriggling from between his teeth for only a moment before he pulled it into his maw. He would have offered some to his human had he not already learned that Hiccup preferred fish held over a fire to those freshly regurgitated. Ridiculous tastes those humans had…

He pawed at Hiccup’s left leg, where the boy seemed to be focusing his frustration.

“This thing doesn’t seem to be helping either of us much at the moment, does it?” Hiccup observed dryly, gesturing to the useless foot. Toothless sniffed at the leg, then looked up to Hiccup’s face, sympathetic. Hiccup sighed and patted the bridge of the dragon’s nose. He needed to find civilization soon, lest they both remain indefinitely tethered to their station in the woods.

Toothless snorted, puzzled when Hiccup reached down to remove the prosthetic from its place tied below his knee.

“It’s alright, bud,” Hiccup soothed. It occurred to him that the dragon had never seen him remove the false leg. Setting the useless prosthetic aside, Hiccup’s gaze was drawn to the gaping, empty space where his left leg should have been.

Normally when he removed the leg, whether to sleep or make repairs, he deliberately avoided looking directly at the healing stump below his left knee; sometimes, he still half-expected the leg to be there. Now, staring at the stump out in the open, unmasked, Hiccup almost felt purer without it, free of the façade that there was nothing wrong with him. It was part of who he was now.  Just like Toothless.

However, Hiccup realized, an unsupported stump wasn’t conducive to entering town unaided or inconspicuously. Neither was his riding gear, mangled mane of hair, or colossal beast of a dragon. He needed something that would allow him to find the nearest town and forge without drawing much attention to himself.

Grabbing a good-sized branch from the ground, Hiccup hoisted himself to stand. The branch made a fair walking stick. It split into a ‘Y’ at its end at a height that allowed Hiccup to easily fix it under his arm. After further scouring the forest floor, he had a matching set. However, misjudging his momentum after his first step sent him tumbling to the ground. Before his hands could make contact with the earth, the dragon’s head was under him, lifting him up and planting him upright. Toothless grunted, ready to support the boy’s weight wherever he was headed.

“No, Toothless.” Puzzled, Toothless watched as Hiccup kneeled to retrieve the crutches. Grunting with the effort, Hiccup pushed himself upright again, fixing the end of the branches more firmly under his arms. Slowly, he moved forward, alternatively pushing his weight off the crutches and his good leg. While difficult to maneuver this way, pride welled in his chest at the fact that could manage it himself.

Toothless eyed the boy’s wobbly progress, concerned. “I’ll be alright, Toothless,” Hiccup reassured him. At least he would be for a short trip into town. Strolling into the square with a scaly beast of Night Fury was not exactly a plausible option, and he didn’t need to give the dragon any more evidence of his human’s frailty.

Though, it occurred to Hiccup, Toothless hadn’t shown much of the agitated tension since their crash-landing that had been so painfully apparent not days ago in Berk. The playful antics and calm, unwavering support that had seemed to Hiccup to be dissipating were suddenly being displayed once again, and it frustrated Hiccup to no end that he could not, for the life of him, pinpoint why the change had occurred.

Though the tactile rift between them appeared to have softened, Hiccup could still feel the scar in their unspoken understanding of one another.

Refocusing, Hiccup moved to where the basket lay by the bank of the stream. Since it had been recently emptied of fish, Hiccup was easily able to pull out the length of cloth that lined the inside. Throwing it around his shoulders, he was pleased to find it was long enough to cloak most of his body: most importantly, his legs. It was slightly damp and reeked horrifically of fish, but it would have to do.

“I’ll be back soon, bud,” Hiccup said, turning to leave. He stopped, however, at a pull on the back of his cloak. Toothless tugged at the fabric, his brow furrowed. He couldn’t leave; they were finally where the boy was supposed to be, free of every restraint or law or expectation. Finally, Hiccup was somewhere he could breathe. So why was he in such a hurry to leave it?

“I’ll be alright, buddy,” Hiccup reassured, gently pulling the fabric from Toothless’ gums. The dragon obliged, allowing Hiccup to slowly make his way inland with even, determined steps. Hiccup would live up to newly granted title. He would prove to himself and to Toothless that he was not just a burden. After being discarded as one his whole life, Hiccup refused to let his best friend slip into that mindset as well.

He would be even more than Useful; he would be a Hero.

~~~

The village of Berk had seemed, to Hiccup, to be filled to the brim with activity during the days before the Winternights feast. Upon approaching this village, he found he was sorely mistaken. This village was bursting at the seams with hubbub, many times busier than Hiccup could remember ever seeing Berk. Even from where he stood at the edge of the wood, Hiccup could see blurs of color as villagers buzzed about the packed town square, carrying baskets of textiles and produce or pulling bleating sheep and pigs to be traded and sold.

While the commotion exceeded the general hustle and bustle of midday in Berk, there was a stronger sense of joviality amongst these people, an easy familiarity with their peaceful lifestyle. Pleasantly surprised, Hiccup found it relatively simple to navigate the crowded square; the exuberance of the people that overwhelmed him in Berk was pleasantly absent from this crowd. He travelled slowly along the edges of the square, allowing the other villagers to continue their steady journeys through town, while he scanned the surrounding stalls for the blacksmith’s.

Upon reaching the heart of the village, he spotted it; an open forge settled in the center of the square. A man stood over the bellows, absorbed in his work, only looking up after Hiccup had coughed conspicuously for several seconds. Wiping his hands on his smithing apron, the man left his project and moved toward the counter. His pace was slow and measured, his shoulders slightly hunched; his muscles had seen their fair share of hard work in recent weeks.

“Can I help yeh, lad?” The man’s Gaelic was thickly accented, but Hiccup could understand him well enough to reply.

“Need tools. Make repairs,” he said in embarrassingly broken Gaelic, and his accent made it clear to the man that he travelling from much further north. Hiccup hoped that his broken speech would not lead him to unwittingly offend the man. If Hiccup could not persuade him to allow him use of their forge, he and Toothless could easily remain stranded for a very long time. This appeared to be the only smithy in the small village, and travelling any further inland risked their safety more than Hiccup was comfortable with. “Can pay,” he added hastily, quickly pulling the small bundle of what coins he had from his tunic.

The man stood back, gruffly perusing the strange foreigner’s countenance, then shuffled to the back room of the stall. Hiccup tensed, worried that he had unintentionally sabotaged his chances of convincing the man (damn his horrendous Gaelic), but was surprised to see him quickly reemerge into the main room with a girl at his side. They spoke hurriedly to one another in hushed tones, the girl occasionally turning back to glare at Hiccup through narrowed eyes. After nodding her unenthusiastic consent to the man, she strode to the counter where Hiccup still stood.

“What do you want?” Her words were short and clipped. And Norse.

“You speak Norse?” Hiccup responded, failing to answer her first question for his surprise. At least now he had half a chance of convincing them. “That’s great! Because…”

“You stray from my question, foreigner. What do you want?” Hiccup swallowed his next words in a dry gulp. Though easily a head shorter than him and just as skinny, the girl had a fire in her eyes (and hair, judging by its color and state of wild disarray) that was not to be messed with.

“I’ve had an…accident,” he began, aware now that he said it out loud of how unbelievable his vague tale must have sounded to the skeptical girl, whose arms were already folded obstinately across her chest, eyebrows raised. “I have some money and I’ll only need a day at most to make repairs…”

“No.” She turned away from him even before he spoke, quickly moving back inside the forge and away from the counter.

“Wait! You don’t understand!” Hiccup called, but she paid him no mind. This was not how his first solo mission was supposed to end. He had mustered the confidence to stride into an unfamiliar village, seek out the forge, offer payment, and the best she could give him was an unsupported ‘no’? “At least give me a reason…”

“I owe nothing to a foreigner. Especially a Norseman,” she spat. The girl was resolute.

“Look,” Hiccup said, not anywhere near ready to admit defeat, “I don’t know why you have such a huge problem with me,-” she scoffed, indignant, “-but I really need to make these repairs. I’ll only need a day.” He remained wary as her expression failed to waver. “At the most,” he added. Her grimace was strong and made clear her seemingly unwarranted disgust with Hiccup, but he absolutely had to find a way to reason with her.

Before he could try, the older man who had been calmly observing from the sidelines stepped in, beckoning the girl over to speak with him. Reluctantly, she went. While Hiccup was unable to understand the majority of their agitated conversation, the phrases “too much work” and “could use help” floated across to him. From the girl’s indignant glares and the man’s stern, knowing ones, Hiccup pieced together the situation.

“Can help!” he called in Gaelic, causing them both to immediately snap their heads towards the counter. Hiccup directed his words to the girl again “I’m an apprentice, I’m good too. I can work for you,” Hiccup offered again, “in exchange for use of your forge when the workday is finished.”

For the first time since their confrontation began, the girl appeared to be at a loss for words. Flustered, she glanced expectantly at the man behind her. He nodded sternly. Exasperated, she turned reluctantly back to Hiccup.

“Fine.” Hiccup beamed from ear to ear. She scowled just as fiercely. Hiccup thanked the man, who nodded his acknowledgement of the arrangement and left the forge. Hiccup gathered himself to go as well, but stopped at the girl’s still-icy words.

“I expect you here at sunrise tomorrow. Don’t expect the work to be easy.”

“I don’t.”

“Don’t come back here with that stupid grin on your face, either.” Hiccup continued to grin in the wake of his hard-earned victory. He couldn’t bring himself to smother the rare warmth of bountiful self-confidence.

“Of course not,” he replied, already walking away. His nonchalant sarcasm turned her face as red as her hair.

“And _do not_ be late.”

Hiccup turned over his shoulder to look back at her, still smiling.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiccup is a sassy little brat.
> 
> As always, constructive feedback is thoroughly appreciated!
> 
> How to Train Your Dragon © DreamWorks Animation and Cressida Cowell  
> Into the Woods © Lapine, Sondheim


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “And it’s fun to deceive when you know you can leave,   
> but you have to be wary...”  
>  ~ On the Steps of the Palace: Into the Woods

_Chapter Six_

Hiccup was not late to the forge the next morning. In fact, he made sure he left early, before most of the villagers had even dreamt of waking. He padded slowly down the hillside that separated the village from the forest’s edge, struggling a bit with a single crutch in the powdery snow that blanketed the ground. Under his free arm, he carried the broken prosthetic. Despite the freedom of being able to walk without it, Hiccup determined that hobbling awkwardly through the smithy with his cloak and crutches would not be conducive to getting work done. Work that the snarly girl had clearly indicated would not be easy. He was ready for the labor, but Hiccup would need all of his agility available to him to ensure he gave her no reason to complain.

Hiccup slowly approached the forge once he entered the village square, pausing several paces away and peering inside. There was no sign of the girl or other man; he was in the clear. Relieved, Hiccup exhaled and stepped into the forge, setting aside his prosthetic and trading his cloak for a smithing apron that hung near the entryway.

Since the source of his prosthetic’s mechanical failure resided in the spring that allowed the metal footplate to resist his weight, it simply needed to be replaced to restore the leg’s usefulness. Swiftly, Hiccup set to searching through the largest workbench in the forge. Sure enough, a small collection of misshapen nails, small weights, and other odds and ends found a home on a ledge underneath the workbench. Jackpot.

Hiccup sifted through the misfit materials, keeping one eye out for any piece that would replace the broken spring and the other for anyone else entering the forge; the girl would almost certainly throw a fit if she found the Norseman rooting through the master craftsman’s workspace. He exhaled, placating himself in order to focus on his task; all he needed was a spring. They couldn’t possibly miss such a small, commonplace…

“ _What_ are you doing?”

The resounding thud of Hiccup’s head cracking against the underside of the bench managed to drown out his startled yelp at the girl’s sudden appearance. Groaning and rubbing the crown of his head, Hiccup swiped his cloak from the ground and turned to face her.

“What are _you_ doing?” he retorted as he threw the cloak around his shoulders, refusing to tiptoe around her already flaring temper. She scoffed.

“It’s _my_ forge. I can do whatever I please.”

It was Hiccup’s turn to scoff at her. “Oh, really?”

“Yes.” Assuming this laid the topic to rest, the girl moved to the other side of the forge where another workbench was pushed against the wall.

“Right,” Hiccup continued sardonically, “and the man here yesterday was your apprentice?”

Across the smithy, the girl froze where she stood, her fingers in the midst of tying her smithing apron around her waist. After a moment’s pause, she completed the task, tying the apron in a sturdy knot. Turning on her heel, she strode across the forge to stand directly in front of him. “I don’t owe you any answers, foreigner,” she spat down at Hiccup where he still knelt on the ground. She smirked. “Now, would you kindly step away from _my_ workbench?”

Hiccup stared at her, dumbfounded. Slowly, he reached to the workbench to pull himself up from the ground. This couldn’t possibly be her station; it was easily the largest in the forge, customarily reserved for the master craftsman. As he grabbed his crutch and stepped aside to allow her to seat herself, Hiccup observed the tools and ledgers arranged neatly against the back of the table. She removed the last ledger from its place and took a pencil to the page. The poised authority with which she took her place at the bench convinced Hiccup of her claim. But why, in Thor’s name, was a girl no older than he carrying out the duties of a master blacksmith?

“You can start working over there,” she stated, pointing to the smaller workbench in the corner without looking up from her ledger. “There are plenty of unfinished projects for you to get started on.” Hiccup failed to shoot back any sort of sarcastic reply, still baffled by her revealed status. If she was, in fact, the master craftsman, then she must be extremely skilled in her trade; uncommon at their age, and all the more uncommon for a woman. Despite her bitter disdain for him, Hiccup couldn’t help but have respect for her.

Thus, he did as he was told, moving to the workspace she had indicated, but not before swiftly swiping his prosthetic from where it leaned against the side of her workbench.

“What was that?” she snapped, whirling on her stool to face him.

“What was what?” Hiccup asked dumbly, concealing the leg behind his back.

Her eyes narrowed. “You know precisely what. Give it here.”

Before Hiccup could protest, she was off her stool and planted in front of him, arm outstretched and glaring. Though she was easily a full head shorter than him, even when he leaned on his crutch, she stood her ground with such conviction that Hiccup knew there was no going around her demand. Reluctantly, he held the prosthetic out in front of him.

“Oh.” Her abrasiveness fizzled instantly, all cockiness and attitude deflating as she registered the full extent of the injury that forced the boy to walk with a crutch. “I thought…I didn’t realize…”

“S’fine,” Hiccup mumbled, dropping the prosthetic to his side once again, withdrawing. The shift in her demeanor was unsettling. If she was going to treat him differently, he didn’t want it to be because of a handicap. He wanted to earn respect. Regardless, something in her face softened and she continued.

“I will repair it,” she said, holding her hand out expectantly to take the prosthetic from him, but Hiccup drew back from her extended arm. The repair was simple, something Hiccup knew how to do with his eyes closed. For this girl, who until thirty seconds before wouldn’t give him the time of day, to repair it for him would almost be insulting. Hiccup didn’t need someone else to rescue him anymore, he was going to work his way back to Berk himself. He was perfectly capable and knew it, even if no one else around him seemed to recognize it. Her offer to help him was borne from pity for the cripple that she had verbally abused, and pity was the very last thing Hiccup wanted.

Seeing his wary pause, she urged him further. “You have other work to do, and you’ll need this for bellow work later, I’m sure,” she reasoned. Her tone was businesslike, removing emotion from the equation. “It’s most efficient for both of us.”

Hiccup had quickly learned that this girl would adamantly refuse to compromise on any of her demands and she was certainly not one to meet in the middle. Grudgingly, he stepped forward to meet her and dropped the prosthetic into her waiting arms. Without another glance, she turned away, dismissing him to return to his workbench.

Hiccup turned his attention to the unfinished projects waiting there for him. He was glad to find that most of what needed to be done was technical detailing work, easily done seated. He sat on the stool, sturdier than the one at his own workbench in Berk, and leaned intently over his tools.

As the early morning light flooded over the misty horizon and wore on into day, Hiccup found that they fell into an easy rhythm of working with one another, never speaking, yet at ease in the other’s presence. Even in the unfamiliar space, Hiccup felt more at home in this forge than he did in his own workspace in Berk. Though the origins of the girl’s deep-rooted resentment of him remained unknown, she had seemingly rescinded her initial judgments, if only for the time they were in the forge together. For those hours, she was able to regard him as a fellow human being rather than just a Northerner. Both of them had their own stories and struggles, and his clearly involved a degree of sacrifice she knew nothing of. For that, he deserved her respect.

The ageless silence in which they labored shuddered for a moment when she cleared her throat behind him, unwilling to be broken. It shattered, however, when she cleared her throat a second time and Hiccup was thrown back to the present; the foreign village, his moody smithy companion, and his ever-pressing need to get working on a new tail for Toothless to return to Berk.

“Here,” she said, thrusting the prosthetic towards him. Her face was stern, but her voice had lost its cold and biting tone. “I suppose you’ll want this for whatever personal work you needed to do.” Hiccup took the leg from her, tentatively weighing it in his hands to gauge what kind of adjustments she had made. “We perform only the highest quality repairs, I assure you,” she said over her shoulder as she turned to leave, dismissing him for the day without any cordial parting words. Hiccup’s skepticism of her regard for him intensified; perhaps the shift in the room’s atmosphere earlier was due only to a brief bout of pity for the crippled foreigner.

“Thank you,” Hiccup called, gesturing to the repaired prosthetic when she stalled in her exit to face him. “And thank you again for the use of your forge…er…” Hiccup trailed uncomfortably, realizing that she had never mentioned her name. Intrigued that he had referred to their location as _her_ forge, she eyed him, appraising the safety of trusting him.

“Regan,” she said calmly, and quickly strode around the corner, out of the stall, and out of sight.

Thoroughly pleased with himself to have gotten any information from her, Hiccup noted that she had given her name without first demanding his. She trusted him.

Hiccup now had an ally.

~~~

Stoick was not the only one who spent an inordinate amount of time staring at the distant horizon. Astrid had situated herself on the hillside where, only days ago, Hiccup had sat beside her in the grass laughing with her, sending their voices out over the craggy rocks and waves until their ribs ached and their minds were free of any troubling, worldly thought.

The grass beneath Astrid’s fingers was now frozen and dead, finally choked in winter’s grasp. It had happened so quickly it seemed like Hiccup had snatched the life away from Berk in his disappearing act. While the rest of the village gathered to celebrate Vetrnætr, Astrid remained where she sat, well-aware that her attentions were wasted, but half-hoping to see the boy and Night Fury appear over the water nonetheless.

“What are you doing up here?”

Astrid tensed, snapping her head towards the voice, but relaxed upon identifying the speaker.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied. “It’s almost sundown. Why aren’t you at the feast, Fish?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Though Fishlegs’ retort wasn’t nearly as biting as Astrid’s, she tentatively observed her features to ensure she wasn’t going to threaten any physical damage before seating himself on the ground beside her. “You know, I heard the chief is planning to send ships out looking for him if he doesn’t come back by the end of Vetrnætr. They’ll find him.”

“I can’t understand it,” she said. “I knew that he was acting strange, I just never thought he could actually just pick up and leave…”

“He didn’t.”

Astrid sighed, yanking up dead blades of grass from where her fingers raked the frozen ground. Her absent-minded action told Fishlegs she didn’t believe him.

“Astrid. Hiccup didn’t run away.”

She scoffed. “You didn’t hear the way he was talking…”

“I didn’t have to. He isn’t like that, Astrid.” The girl failed to avert her attention from the dead grass she studied intently between her fingers. If Fishlegs’ didn’t stop incessantly pushing the subject, he was going to find himself on the receiving end of a good punch to the ribs…

“All I’m saying is that you need to have more faith in him,” Fishlegs said, seeing that he wouldn’t be able to talk much more sense into her for the time being. “Even though some things he does might seem crazy, Hiccup always knows what he’s doing. He’s proven that much, don’t you think?” Astrid finally turned to look the boy in the eyes. He managed a small smile. “Trust him.”

She wanted to trust him, desperately wanted to believe that he was coming back, but the longer she dwelt on his jumpiness and distance in the days before his departure, the harder it was to believe it wasn’t premeditated.

Either way, Hiccup had more explaining to do than he would be able to wrap his little freckled head around when he came back.

If, and when, he ever did.

~~~

Hiccup was surprised to find that Regan had truly made quality repairs to the foot. As he trudged back towards the woods, the leg adjusted more naturally to his weight than he remembered, transitioned more smoothly with his stride. The girl’s skill was evident even in the minor adjustments she made to the prosthetic, and Hiccup couldn’t help but wonder why someone just his age in a farming village, a girl no less, would have mastered such a trade. Regardless, he was glad to have found an ally in his foreign surroundings, even if she was a temperamental one. Since she finished the prosthetic repairs for him, Hiccup had time to start constructing a new tail for Toothless after her departure. If he had the same amount of time to work the next few nights, he and Toothless would be back in the Barbaric Archipelago by the end of Vetrnætr.

At the thought of the dragon, Hiccup quickened his pace; if he took much longer to return to camp, all of the fish he had caught would almost certainly be gone.

“Why the hurry, boy?”

Hiccup froze in his tracks mere strides from the edge of the woods. The voice that had spoken was menacing and gruff. Hiccup’s heart caught in his throat even before he turned to see the threatening, burly man it belonged to. He was flanked on either side by two other equally terrifying men who stepped forward to close in on Hiccup like enormous, hulking birds of prey. Where they stood at the forest’s edge, they were untouched by the glow of village lights in the far distance, invisible to all but the waning moon.

Hiccup stumbled backward. “No, I just…” he mumbled as he stepped back to put more space between himself and his aggressors, but found his back pressed against a tree. For a fleeting moment he pondered making a mad dash into the trees, but struck that plan after glimpsing the men’s daggers where they glinted at him from their belts. Even with the improvements to his leg, Hiccup doubted he could outrun the armored thugs. He was cornered, and the ringleader’s wicked grin told Hiccup that they knew it too.

“You should be more careful what valuables you carry around with you, foreigner,” the man sneered, his men tightening the ring they formed around Hiccup, who instantly wanted to kick himself for not wearing his cloak. He should have known better after he made a display of offering payment to Regan the day before.

Pulse racing, Hiccup prepared to reach for his dagger, though doubtful it would be of much help to him now. Curling his lip in a menacing sneer, the front man swung an enormous fist, but not before a massive beast burst forward from the trees. It moved with blinding speed, black as the abyss and equally petrifying, and released a piercing shriek that shattered the stagnant night air. The deafening scream shook the men to their cores, and they all but bolted from the scene when the beast defensively planted itself between them and the boy, wings spread wide and fangs bared. Both boy and dragon stared as they ran without as much as a backward glance. Grunting, Toothless spat a fireball at their heels for good measure.

After they disappeared from sight, Toothless turned to sniff worriedly at Hiccup, inspecting him for any injury. The boy reached up to reassuringly rub Toothless’ nose from where he had been knocked to the ground.

“I’m fine, buddy,” he said, releasing a nervous chuckle. “Thank you. That could have ended badly.” Toothless whimpered his agreement while tugging at the human, anxious to return him to the safety of the trees. Suddenly recognizing just how tired he felt, Hiccup readily complied, following Toothless back into the woods. “It was weird though; they all acted like they’d never seen a dragon before,” Hiccup wondered aloud.

“Well they’ve certainly never seen a Night Fury before.”

Hiccup didn’t have to turn to identify Regan’s biting words. He did so anyway, and watched as she stepped out from where she had been hidden behind a boulder, her stare locked solidly onto them, unwavering. Hiccup’s stomach dropped. She had seen everything. Now, he would be providing her with much more information than he had originally planned.

And he would have to trust her with it.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to state that this is not a romance fic; Hiccup’s primary goals at this point are getting back home and hanging out with his dragon broski, not hooking up with random Irish girlies. Rest assured that this is a Hiccup-centered story as well and will not be turning into The Adventures of Regan and Her Main Character Turned Sidekick anytime soon. She just has a lot of background that plays into Hiccup’s development that we need to build for the time being. And Toothless will show up more from now on :D
> 
> Any and all constructive feedback is greatly appreciated!
> 
> How to Train Your Dragon © DreamWorks Animation and Cressida Cowell
> 
> Into the Woods © Lapine, Sondheim


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Better run along home and avoid the collision…”   
> ~ On the Steps of the Palace: Into the Woods

_Chapter Seven_

Hiccup had to move quickly to calm Toothless, who immediately jumped between him and the unfamiliar human, eyes narrowed and snarling.

“Easy, Toothless! She’s a friend,” Hiccup soothed. The moment the dragon’s teeth were bared again, Regan had proceeded to duck behind the boulder from which she had observed the scene before. “He’s just tense,” Hiccup called, positioning himself between the girl and the Night Fury while keeping a reassuring hand on Toothless’ neck. “You scared him.”

Regan quickly righted herself, coolly brushing off her skirts in an attempt to conceal her hasty retreat, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. “ _I_ scared _him_?” she asked incredulously. Hiccup nearly chuckled aloud at her reaction. She and Astrid may get along nicely, were they ever to meet. He paused, recalling how Astrid had continued to respond after meeting Toothless for the first time, how her surprised intrigue had so quickly transformed into a skepticism that sent her running. Toward the village. Just looking at Regan, it was apparent that she was prepared to do the same.

“Ah, Regan, this is Toothless,” Hiccup introduced. Now aware that the girl posed no threat to his human, Toothless sat back on his haunches, eyes wide and inquisitive. Curiosity piqued, Regan tentatively stepped forward. It was astounding to her that this beast could transition seamlessly between ferocity and docility in a matter of seconds.

“He looked pretty _Toothful_ to me,” she deadpanned. At her comment, Toothless pulled back his lips to reveal a gummy smile. Both she and Hiccup laughed at the gesture, but Hiccup did so to cover up his jittery nerves. She was interested and at ease…for now. Hiccup needed to keep her that way long enough to tell their story. Now that she had seen Toothless, there was no going back. She was either fully committed to their side or to her village’s, and Hiccup would do everything in his power to ensure it was the former.

“I’ve only ever heard legends,” Regan continued, appraising Toothless in awe. “They were always described as dangerous beasts to be slaughtered.”

“Extremely dangerous, kill on sight,” Hiccup reiterated from the dragon manual where the phrase was inked countless times. He was going to have to get around to rewriting that atrociously inaccurate text. “I know, but we were so wrong. Toothless showed me just how wrong we were…”

“We?” Regan interrupted. “You mean your tribe?”

Hiccup nodded. She interjected again before he could even draw breath to continue. “Were your people victims of the Raids?” She spoke of them as if they were foreign events that she had observed from a separate world.

Again, Hiccup nodded. “Were yours?” Regan shook her head.

“There were no dragons in my old village, and by the time my father and I came, they hadn’t raided here in months.”

Hiccup immediately thanked Odin that he had thought to keep Toothless hidden in the forest. The villagers here were obviously not on the best of terms with dragons, save Regan and her father. A naivety, Hiccup realized, that could serve him well in this situation. Slowly, Hiccup could see the apprehension draining from her features as she marveled at the dragon, her mind absent of centuries of war and prejudice that had poisoned the inhabitants of Berk. She was clean slate, and his best potential ally here.

“So…you’ve never had any contact with dragons?”

“No,” Regan affirmed, shaking her head. “I only know what I’ve heard in tales.” She failed to look at Hiccup at all as she spoke, unwilling to tear her eyes away from Toothless, who was posing proudly, positively glowing in the undivided attention he was receiving from this new human. Hiccup lowered his eyelids at the dragon, who snorted and puffed his chest out further in response.

“It’s a good thing they don’t treat you like that back home. You wouldn’t be able to carry me _and_ your inflated head around.” Before Hiccup could snigger at his own insult, he found himself on his rear in the snow, the victim of a swift and precise tail swipe. It surprised Hiccup when Regan failed to join Toothless in his amused chuckling.

“You ride him?” she asked.

“Yes, when he’s behaving,” he replied as Toothless grudgingly helped lift him to his feet.

“That’s…wow,” she breathed, doing her best to cloak her amazement, but allowed herself to grin in admiration nonetheless. Hiccup was astounded by how much meeting Toothless had changed her demeanor. Her entire aura no longer reeked of hostility or disdain for Hiccup, but rather a curiosity that he had not yet seen her display. Despite all the callousness she had shown before, she was slowly but surely letting her guard down.  Toothless seemed to have that effect on people. At least, he did when they saw him behave like an overgrown puppy. If only the Hooligans could have been so open-minded months ago instead of so frustratingly dead-set in their tradition, Hiccup thought wryly. He might have found himself in a much different situation.

“I should probably head home. My father will wonder what’s happened to me.”

Hiccup’s eyes lit up as he put two and two together. “The man with you yesterday?” Regan nodded.

“He’d normally be resting by now, but since it’s the first night of Samhain, I’m sure he’s still awake. And looking for me…”

“Samhain?” Hiccup asked, unfamiliar with the term, but quickly able to decipher its meaning. “My village just started their winter celebrations too! Vetrnætr,” he said, clarifying the foreign title. “I doubt I’ll get back before they’re over though.”

At the mention of the holiday they shared, Regan finally tore her eyes away from Toothless to regard the boy. To Hiccup’s amazement, there was no trace of disgust or skepticism that had emanated from her at their first meeting, nor was there the pity he had recently received from her. She now observed him with the same intrigued curiosity with which she regarded Toothless, a being with whom she had had little previous contact (only negative, at that) and had proved in a matter of minutes that he did not live up to the judgments she had formed. Before her eyes, this Norseman was doing the same. They were more alike than she ever could have imagined. Grinning, she stepped away.

“You owe me an explanation as soon as you show up tomorrow,” she demanded. Though the ice had left her voice, she did not shy from tossing out commands, and Hiccup found the impulse to obey as irritatingly strong as ever.

“Of course,” he replied.

“Good.” She nodded to Toothless in farewell. “I’ll see you tomorrow then…” she began, slowing her footsteps.

“Hiccup,” he supplied. She nodded again before turning to sprint down the remainder of the hill and towards the village.

Of all her unprecedented actions that evening, Hiccup found her reaction to Toothless the most bizarre. After seeing the beast approach three armed men, vicious and snarling, and sent them running with their tails between their legs, she treated him like a new puppy. As if on cue, Toothless began nudging the back of the boy’s head with his nose. “Alright bud, we can go back now.” Chuckling, Hiccup turned to scratch the dragon’s neck. “You are just a giant puppy, aren’t you?” For a moment, Toothless regarded the boy through half-lidded eyes, then proceeded to flash his rows of razor-sharp serrated teeth. “A giant puppy that could kill a grown man in a single chomp,” Hiccup amended, and Toothless grunted his approval of the revised description.

As they made their way back into the woods, Hiccup glanced down the hill toward the village to which Regan had retreated. She had asked for his name, which meant she no longer viewed him as a threat. Nor as a charity case, which would almost have been worse in Hiccup’s current opinion. They were not yet equals, but at least they were now on the same side.

~~~

The cacophony of joyous shouts and antics that echoed throughout the hall was as warm and bubbling as the mead that fueled them. On the second night of Vetrnætr, the Hooligans feasted over an abundance of food unlike any that had been seen in the previously war-torn village: lamb that had not been stolen away in raids, fruits that had been permitted to grow in uncharred fields, and, of course, plenty of mead to go around.

The chief, however, sat apart from his people, observing, but not partaking, in their merrymaking. Despite having emptied his first tankard, his nerves were far too worn, stretched thin across a chasm of uncertainty and indecision, for any proper celebration of the village’s abundance. Everything before him, the feast, the frivolity, the wonderful weightlessness of their new lives, was possible because of Hiccup. Hiccup had been courageous enough, heroic enough, to stand and proclaim his blasphemous new ideas to a village built on traditions centuries old, stood up to _Stoick_ ,  because Hiccup _knew_ he was right. It devastated the chief that his son was not there to see the rewards of his sacrifices.

“Normally, I’d suggest yeh go join the party,” Gobber said, seating himself beside Stoick with his tankard. “But under the circumstances…”

“Not tonight,” Stoick replied, his stare still trained on the crowd before him. Gobber bit his lower lip. He hated seeing the chief so uncharacteristically lost at such a celebratory time. All of which pained him even more to be the bearer of bad news.

“I actually found yeh tae bring a message. From the Meathead chief.” Stoick quickly pulled his attention from the crowd.

“Mogadon?” he asked, perplexed. “What could he possibly want at this time of the season?” Gobber exhaled heavily before continuing.

“He wants yer aid in launching raids on the south.”

Stoick nearly choked on his mead. After taking a moment to swallow properly, the chief fished for a response in his state of shock.

“Raids? _Now_ of all times?” Why, after centuries of defensive warfare, would Mogadon think Stoick would even dream of launching his people into offensive attacks?

“I know. But yeh know Mogadon…”

Stoick snorted. He did know Mogadon, and knew that such a ridiculous plan would have to be borne of a Meathead.

“Of course we will not send warriors to help him conquer the southern lands.” He was not about to risk the safety of his people for some superficial, self-glorifying goal. Not again.

“I suspected yeh’d say as much,” Gobber replied coolly.

“Let’s hope Mogadon did as well.”

The chief stood gruffly, unwilling to battle with the boisterous atmosphere of the mead hall any longer. At least not that night. “I’m headin’ out.”

It was unlike the chief to leave his people during such festivities, and the sight of his friend leaving through the great doors of the Mead hall impressed upon Gobber just how much he was struggling. Wherever Hiccup was, Gobber hoped to Thor he was doing something damn well worth a silver bar the size of the isle.

~~~

It surprised Stoick how helpful the outside air was. The coolness washed over his senses, lovely for a moment, but left him cold and unsettled. Though the decision concerning Mogadon’s request was certainly already made, he still felt an disconcertion that refused to subside. How could the Meathead tribe launch a war on the south? Now of all times, when news of dragons’ successful integration in Berk was beginning to spread throughout the Archipelago…

“Why now, indeed.”

Stoick started, and whipped around to see the soothsayer. It shouldn’t have surprised him to hear Old Wrinkly speak since the man had been sitting beside him for the past several minutes, but his senses were not the sharpest due to his frenzied thoughts and empty tankard. “’Tis an interesting time to launch an offensive attack,” Old Wrinkly continued, “Especially when Hiccup has so abruptly disappeared.” Stoick’s stomach plummeted very nearly to his heels.

“Yeh’re not sayin’ that…Hiccup?” he spluttered, but the old man raised a hand and shook his head.

“No, I’m not suggesting your son and the Meathead tribe are in any sort of secret cahoots.” He chuckled at the absurd thought, but Stoick did not. His nerves were far too worn to find any humor in Hiccup’s absence. But Old Wrinkly could find the humor in anything. Calming himself, Old Wrinkly continued. “No, I’m only suggesting you think more seriously about speeding up that rescue mission of yours. We wouldn’t want the boy to have any nasty run-ins with Mogadon and his men now would we?”

Stoick stared at his father-in-law, baffled by his uncomfortably cheery demeanor when delivering such unsettling predictions. However, he overlooked the old man’s quirkiness long enough to understand the underlying severity of his message; Hiccup was now in real and imminent danger with the Meathead tribe on open seas with murderous intent. Vetrnætr or no, it was time to find Hiccup and make him safe.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BumbumBUM
> 
> I apologize for the slow update, I was in the process of choosing a university to attend in the fall and preparing for our massive end of the year showchoir performance the past few weeks. Also went to Florida and got some sun, so that was fun xD. All the writing I got done there had to wait till now to get typed up and edited. I promise a quick next installment is on the way! 
> 
> As always, constructive feedback is thoroughly appreciated! ^.^
> 
> How to Train Your Dragon © DreamWorks Animation and Cressida Cowell
> 
> Into the Woods © Lapine, Sondheim


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “He spread pitch on the stairs. I was caught unawares.   
> And I thought, ‘Well, he cares…’”   
> ~ On the Steps of the Palace: Into the Woods

_Chapter 8_

“Wow.”

“Yep.”

 “Sounds like a mess.”

Hiccup snorted and nodded in agreement, finding the general consensus that his life summed up to a mess lately strangely comforting. Regan leaned back from where she sat at her workbench, eyes wide, soaking in the enormity of the story she had just heard. Hiccup turned from his work as well to tentatively observe her reaction. To his relief, her expression held none of the skepticism he had become accustomed to seeing from her.  He could see the thoughts flying wildly behind her eyes, trying desperately to make sense of everything this stranger had told her.

“That’s...that’s really something,” she finally said. “Really, Hiccup. Standing up for yourself like that, and against your own people? Takes guts.”

Hiccup allowed himself to crack a smile. Her ability to respect his actions for what they were without instantly idolizing him was wonderfully refreshing.

“Thanks,” he said, and his reply was, for the first time in a long time, sincere. “It was difficult, especially because…” Hiccup caught himself before mentioning his father, deciding it may be best to keep his status a secret for the time being. “Especially because of my responsibilities,” he finished vaguely.

“But Toothless was worth it?”

When Hiccup looked to her, there was an understanding in her eyes that he never expected to see from her. Slowly, he nodded, smiling at the massive understatement.

“More than worth it.”

She smiled at him. Not in a manner of girlish embarrassment or superficial kindness, but as someone who had found a kindred spirit where she had never expected. This Northerner who had appeared seemingly from thin air was different from the others; he had proven in his short time in her village that he had seen his fair share of hardships just as she had, and, as she was working to do, had overcome them. As difficult as it was to admit to herself, she stood to learn something from this boy.

“My old village was never victim of the Dragon Raids,” she began, and her tone immediately told Hiccup that it would a struggle for her to continue much further. “But there were…other raids.” Her eyes closed. “Northerners, your kind, invaded my home only a season ago.”

The blood in Hiccup’s face immediately fled, leaving him cold. A season ago when, he recalled, he watched fleet after fleet of ships leave the docks in search of the Nest. That was all that those ships did though, right? He tried to calm his rapidly quickening pulse, reassuring himself with the knowledge that his father would be far too occupied with the search to even ponder raiding offensively. However, if driven by necessity for supplies…

“They ransacked homes and churches, stealing anything of value: relics, food, clothing, livestock…” Regan’s eyes remained closed as did Hiccup’s mouth. He could almost see the horrifying scenes racing behind her eyelids. He sat silently, praying the generally peaceable Hooligans were in no way involved. “It was so hard for me to just stand by and watch, to be the one the adults were trying to protect, always kept safe and out of sight. But to be unscathed when the people I cared about, the village I cared about, was being tormented…”She snorted, disgusted, “They might as well have tortured me.”

Hiccup kept his mouth closed still, but out of shock rather than his own volition. His people had been attacked too, ransacked and raided by an invading force, but the Hooligans always fought back. It was the only way they knew how to respond. Hiccup tried to picture how farmers could possibly hope to defend themselves against a horde of Vikings - Vikings who regularly defended themselves from _dragons_ , no less. Any and all possibilities escaped him.

“What I’m getting at is I understand what you’re going through as far as the responsibility thing,” she said quickly, clearly doing her best to shake the horrific memories from her mind. “It’s hard when people expect so much of you, but I’ve learned you have to stand up and face it dead on.” Hiccup swallowed audibly, wishing he could say the same, shame forming a lump in his throat when he realized he couldn’t. “My father had so much life drained out of him by those murderous barbarians that I’ve taken on most of his duties.”

Hiccup hadn’t taken on any of his duties. In fact, he had run away from them. In fact, he realized, he had been relishing the lack of responsibility even in his efforts to return to Berk. Toothless had recognized this ages before her had. Hiccup was simply _happier_ here than he had been in weeks, basking in the freedom provided by the miles of rolling waves between him and the isolated isle of Berk, home to every pressure and responsibility he faced. So why now, of all times, did Regan feel the need to plant guilt in his long-overdue contentment?

“He’s still suffering,” she continued, “He’d be able to get his strength back if my mother were here. Without her, I don’t know if he’ll ever recover.”

“I lost my mother too,” Hiccup said, a part of him glad to have found a way to identify with her, albeit a rather morbid one. While death in war-torn Berk was not uncommon, Hiccup had never been able to commiserate with any of his peers in that respect, given that none of them ever approached Hiccup to do more than deliver some contemptuous remark. Again, he was amazed by the similarities between him and the girl, despite all cultural disparities. Her wordless response told him she felt exactly the same. If only their chieftains could approach delegations in such a manner, there would be much less bloodshed in the Archipelago. Two polar opposites could see eye to eye if they only took the time to try to understand the other’s point of view…

“It’s getting late,” Regan said, effectively shattering the conversation and calling Hiccup’s attention to the fading light outside the forge. She stood, brushing her apron and moving to hang it in its place on the wall. When Hiccup failed to do the same, she paused. “Why don’t you take a night off?”

Before she had even finished Hiccup shook his head. “Ah, no I’ve got a lot to finish here…”

“You’ve worked hard today,” she countered, “You’ve earned a break. And it’s the last night of Samhain. You owe it to yourself to have a little bit of fun.”

Hiccup wavered, wanting dearly to agree with her, but unable to for fear of admitting his lack of motivation to work on getting back home. Plus, he had never been invited to participate in Vetrnætr festivities before, nor paid any attention to them when he forced himself to go.

“It’s the only way to deal with the pressure of being a leader. You have to let yourself breathe sometimes, Hiccup.”

Finally, he stood from his assigned place at his workbench and turned to the exit. She was right; it was time for him to stop holding his breath, waiting for things to happen or stop happening in the chaotic world around him. Maybe it was time to let go, and simply let himself exist where he was in the present moment and release the pressures and responsibilities that even Toothless knew ate at his soul. Really, it was almost frightening that the dragon knew him so much better than he would ever know himself.

And so Hiccup followed her out of the forge and towards the music and laughter echoing from the village square. Instantly, Hiccup felt the cold night air wash over his face, fill his lungs, and ease his mind. So weightless, he was finally flying again, even though his feet never left the ground

~~~

It was dazzling. Hiccup allowed Regan to drag him by the wrist through the crowded village square, for he was simply busy admiring the spectacle to move his legs. Golden lanterns were strung between rooftops and over the square, illuminating a glorious feast of meats and fruits. Though the rest of the slaughter and harvest would be stored for the coming bitter months, the village certainly did not reserve the meager pickings for Samhain. Lamb, cabbage, and apples were set upon by villagers as they caroused boisterously about, all accompanied by a quartet who played a lively jig in the center of the square. Berk’s Vetrnætr celebrations, dampened by war and populated by an exceedingly more violent crowd, simply did not compare.

Hiccup was pulled from his reverie by an insistent tugging on the arm that was not in Regan’s grasp. He peered under his elbow to find a small child. The child, draped in a decorative cloth and a mask that resembled an embellished goat’s skull, wasted no time in shoving a small sack under Hiccup’s nose.

“ _Beidh tú ag cabhrú?_ ”

Hiccup’s limited Gaelic failed him. “Ah, that is a great costume you have there,” he replied instead, kneeling and indicating the child’s beautifully crafted mask. The child only pushed the bag more insistently into Hiccup’s face.

Only after chuckling at her guest’s predicament did Regan kneel as well.

“Alright then, _a ligean ar a bheith véarsa_ ,” she told the masked beggar. Hiccup watched as the child lowered the sack, if only an inch, and cleared his throat. In a small, but enthusiastic voice, he spoke:

_"Mo rùn geal dìleas, dìleas, dìleas_

_Mo rùn geal dìleas nach till thu nall_

_Cha till mi fhèin riut, a ghaoi chan fhaod mi_

_'S ann tha mi ghaoil 'na mo laighe tinn”_

Regan applauded, chuckling at the child’s interesting choice of verse. “ _Post maith, post maith_ ,”she congratulated, standing and reaching behind her to swipe an apple and nuts from the feast that sat on a long table far too high above the child’s head for him to reach. The boy toddled back and forth in anticipation, holding the sack as high above his head as he could reach. After she tossed the reward into the sack, the little boy let out a satisfied “whoop” and scampered away from them to the other end of the square. Hiccup couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s a Samhain thing,” Regan explained, grabbing another pair of apples from the table and tossing one to Hiccup, who quickly caught it against his chest. “Kids will dress up and recite songs or verses in exchange for food. That one was pretty cute. Sometimes they can be more intense than cute, you worry what’ll happen if you don’t give them the food they want.” Hiccup nodded in agreement, still watching the villagers across the square where the boy ran off. They talked and joked, laughed and danced. The atmosphere was almost stiflingly jubilant. Maybe, just maybe, Berk could be like this too. Eventually. The thought was too optimistic for Hiccup to dwell on for long.

He couldn’t have if he had wanted to. The quartet transitioned from a jig into a lively reel, and Regan wasted no time in whisking Hiccup away to the circle forming around the bonfire at the far end of the square.

“What are you doing?” he asked, only half-heartedly resisting her pull on his arm.

“Joining the céilí, of course,” she replied, as if it were painfully obvious. “We’re having fun, Hiccup, remember?”

He smiled. “By all means, lead the way,” he replied. Regan returned the grin, and pulled him into place in the circle. As the music continued, the villagers began to clap to the rhythm. They whooped and hollered, Hiccup included, but none was more enthusiastic than Regan. Jumping on the spot, she laughed and clapped before grabbing the hands of the dancers to her left and right and skipping into the dance. Hiccup couldn’t help but marvel at her transformation: the determination with which she threw herself into a given task, be it work or celebration, reminded him so much of Astrid.

The dance was fairly simple; the circle moved around the fire and the musicians played on as couples were thrown into the center to dance together. To the delight of the rest of the dancers, Hiccup was repeatedly prodded into the center with a variety of ladies who were eager to dance with the newcomer. Much to Regan’s amusement, and Hiccup’s embarrassment, one particularly exuberant older woman went so far as to kiss Hiccup squarely on the nose before returning him to his place in the circle. Regan had trouble taking his hand again, busy as she was holding her stomach doubled over in laughter. Hiccup found himself in the same position before long.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so much in the company of so many other people. The sensation was incredibly foreign, but Hiccup found himself welcoming it with open arms. It was possible, he thought, to enjoy himself with other people despite his less-than-inspiring past fifteen experiences at Winternights. If he were home at that very moment, we would have been having another such experience, saddled with expectation and scrutiny as he was now. For one night, he allowed himself to revel in his anonymity, embracing the levity and freedom that came with it. He continued to laugh and dance, whoop and holler with the other villagers long after the chill had settled into the night air and the bonfire had burnt down to embers.

~~~

They were right there. Right beneath her, below her knees and above the ground, planted firmly on the docks where she stood watching the fleet depart. Her boots were in fact in contact with the dock and her feet were, to her knowledge, safely inside them. However, despite this logical deduction from the given facts, Astrid was nearly positive that her feet had taken up permanent residence in her stomach. They sat there, boots and all, scratching her insides and weighing her down, threatening to drag her under the crashing waves below.

The fleet. The fleet was gone, and although no one remaining in the village knew where exactly they were headed, everyone had ideas. Including Astrid.

During the final hours of the celebration the previous night, the chief was nowhere to be found. Come morning, supplies were being gathered, warriors assembled, and longboats prepared to launch as quickly as humanly possible. Something was clearly amiss.

Astrid was reminded of the eerie emptiness that settled over Berk on the only other occasion that the entire fleet had left at once: the final hunt for the Nest. Then, however, Astrid had been the one to rescue the boy who stood on a cliff staring after the ships. Hiccup didn’t need her rescuing anymore; he made that perfectly clear when he picked up and left. She was the one who needed sense talked into her to prompt her to action this time, and Hiccup wasn’t going to return the favor.

At the thought, Astrid was instantly reacquainted with the boots that still sat in the pit of her stomach.

“I don’t think they’ll be back for a while.”

“I know,” Astrid replied. “Doesn’t change the fact that I wish I knew where they were going. Or _what_ is going on.”

Fishlegs stepped forward to sit down on the docks beside her, staring out towards the same distant spot. “I sure hope Hiccup’s not in trouble.”

“He’s not,” she responded. She could have tried to control the bite in her words, but could no longer find the will. Fishlegs, taken aback but masking any hurt, studied her. Astrid bit her lip and looked away.

“You don’t know that,” he said.

“Sure I do! He’s fine without us right? That came across loud and clear when he _ran away_!”

“You don’t know that,” Fishlegs said again, but there was a tremor in his voice that betrayed his own uncertainty. Every day that Hiccup failed to reappear made it harder for Fish to convince himself that he ever would. At Fishlegs’ faltering response, Astrid felt the weight in her stomach sink even further. If Fishlegs was losing faith, it seemed more believable that Hiccup meant to be gone for good.

“But then,” Fishlegs thought aloud, “what would the Meatheads have to do with any of this?”

Astrid spun to face him. “Meatheads?” she asked. “What about the Meatheads?”

Taking heart in her returned interest, Fishlegs continued. “Well, I head Snotlout bragging to Tuffnut about being allowed at the council meeting before the fleet left because…well…”

“Because Hiccup isn’t here,” Astrid finished.

“Yeah. That,” Fishlegs finished lamely, just as uncomfortable at the thought of Snotlout at the council meeting as Astrid was. “Anyway, there was apparently talk about the Meatheads. A lot of it.” He paused to gauge the girl’s reaction. Her features were beginning to show the same skepticism Fishlegs felt. Encouraged, he continued. “It just doesn’t make sense. _If_ Hiccup ran away and the fleet went after him, why would the Meatheads be involved at all?”

For a moment, the girl appeared to agree with his point, but just as soon was shaking her head.

“I don’t know, Fishlegs. For all we know this could have nothing to do with Hiccup. Just business with the Meatheads. A trade agreement or something.” Now Astrid was the one who faltered, fishing for some alternative explanation, and Fishlegs couldn’t help but smile. The gods had gifted him with a divine opportunity to coax Astrid out of her vendetta against the supposed runaway and he wasn’t about to let it get away.

“Astrid, you know something’s going on here and if we can get to the bottom of it, maybe we can find out what happened to Hiccup.”

His story was so, _so_ tempting to believe, but it was so much easier for her to stick with her earlier conclusion. Much less painful than hoping.

“C’mon, what happened to the Astrid that stalked her competitor through the woods for weeks because she thought something was fishy? Be that determinator again,” Fishlegs pressed. “What would Hiccup do?”

The answer was out there, and standing on the docks waiting for Thor-knows-what was getting her absolutely nowhere. Swiftly, she turned on her heel and marched toward the village square.

“Whoa, where are you going?” Fishlegs asked, nearly upended into the waves by the girl as she swept passed him.

“Go saddle Meatlug,”Astrid called, still staring straight ahead, eyes locked on her destination. “Tell the others to saddle up as well. If we want answers, we’ll have to go straight to the source.” The Meatheads were going to give them answers. Astrid was tired: tired of lies, tired of waiting, and most of all tired of feeling so ridiculously helpless. It wasn’t the Viking way and it wasn’t her. So Astrid strode away from the docks and towards her answers, leaving the boots in her stomach far behind her.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiccup would make a pretty swag Irish dancer, don’t you think? My thoughts precisely.
> 
> The Silver Spear and The Glasgow Reel were not a thing at the time I suspect, but those’re totally the reels they danced to.
> 
> Translation Time:  
> “Will you help?”   
> “Alright then, let’s hear a verse.”  
> “My fair and faithful, faithful love  
> My fair and faithful love would that you returned to me  
> I will not return to you, love, I cannot  
> For I am lying here, my love, on my sick-bed”
> 
> “Good job, good job.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “This is more than just malice.   
> Better stop and take stock   
> while you’re standing here stuck on the steps of the palace.”   
> ~ On the Steps of the Palace: Into the Woods

_Chapter Nine_

The Meathead village eerily echoed the current emptiness of Berk. As the Hooligan teens approached the southern island, Astrid couldn’t help but notice the distinct lack of longboats at the docks. The village square was nearly empty, left in disarray by a tribe that apparently had somewhere very important to be on very short notice.

“Wow,” Astrid breathed. “It’s like a ghost town.”

“A ghost town?” Tuffnut asked, from where he sat lounging on the neck of the twins’ Zippleback. “So like…with real ghosts and stuff?”

Astrid rolled her eyes, barely tempted to grace Tuffnut’s comment with a response.

“Not really, it’s more of an expression,” Fishlegs answered him. The correction went into one of Tuffnut’s ears and directly out the other.

“Ah man, I hope we see some. Maybe they like to break things…”

Astrid allowed Snotlout to retort to Tuffnut’s musings this time; she was busy enough searching the abandoned village for their destination. If who she was looking for wasn’t there, then they weren’t going to get the answer they came for and, quite frankly, that prospect did not sit well with Astrid.

Noticing that the girl’s stony grimace had remained unchanged for too long, Fishlegs flew in closer to her. “Don’t  worry,” he said. “We’ll get what we came for.”

Astrid did her best to manage a smile. “I hope so, Fish. I don’t really have a backup plan for this one…” And then she spotted it. “There! Land in the clearing behind that house,” Astrid called to the rest of the group. Their dragons circled as they approached the highest point of the village, all touching down near the chief’s house. The other riders dismounted quickly, sensing the urgency of the situation, but Astrid was already marching to the door before anyone else’s feet had even touched the ground.

Any politeness appropriate for dealing with the heir of their neighboring tribe cast aside, Astrid all but knocked down the front door. While part of her mind knew the obnoxious knocking wasn’t at all necessary, the dominant portion needed to confirm the chief’s son was still on the island as soon as possible. However, knowing Thuggory, if his father’s expedition had any hint of sinister motive, he would have adamantly refused to take part; the two of them hadn’t seen eye to eye on many a method of leadership for quite some time. Disagreement between chief and heir created discord in the village that had prevented the Meatheads from visiting Berk for the past several years. However, the last time Astrid had seen Thuggory, his behavior had been less than proper. Perhaps the years had remedied his feelings regarding her…

When the door opened, Astrid barely stopped her knocking in time to avoid inadvertently socking Thuggory in the nose.

“Astrid!” he exclaimed, leaning back quickly to avoid her fist. “Interesting way to greet someone you haven’t seen in years.” He smiled coyly and Astrid withdrew her hand, folding her arms across her chest.

“We’ve been busy,” she explained coolly. “As have you.”

Thuggory nodded, chuckling at the massive understatement. “Yeah. _Pretty_ busy…” Pulling fingers through his black hair, he tried to smile at her again. Astrid crossed her arms more tightly, if that were possible.

Either not recognizing her wishes to strictly discuss business, or simply choosing not to acknowledge them, he continued their present vein of conversation. “So how’ve you been? Gotten yourself a husband, or has no one worthy presented themselves yet?”

And there it was. Same old Thuggory. She should have just let herself punch him earlier when he opened the door; it would have been justified.

“We have to speak with you about your tribe’s current undertakings,” Astrid said, effectively redirecting the conversation. Thuggory raised an eyebrow. “We have reason to believe that actions of your father and his warriors have interfered with Hooligan affairs.”

Thuggory understood her statement, but failed to see any possible connection between his father’s recent escapade and the Hooligans. Perplexed, he stood aside and held the door open. “Why don’t we sit down and talk about it then?”

Astrid opened her mouth to protest, but was nearly trampled by the rest of the gang as they readily accepted Thuggory’s invitation to escape the cold of the settling winter. As they quickly settled themselves into the warmth of the chief’s house, Astrid relinquished any hope for a quick, painless exchange. Resigned, she accepted Thuggory’s invitation into the house.

The ground floor more or less resembled those on Berk; Spartan, efficient, yet comfortable by Viking standards. The others had gathered around the table near the center of the space, save the twins, who were almost immediately distracted by the weapons of destruction adorning the walls. Astrid allowed her gaze to travel along the rows of weaponry that hung around them, noting that they covered all four of the room’s walls, closing them in. Though of course there were still weapons in the homes of Berk, the way of the warrior still a fundamental element of the Viking tradition, their purpose had changed along with their lifestyle after the war. They served solely as symbols of their strength and ability, only to be used when necessary. The weapons bore down upon them, primed and ready for battle, almost as if the war still raged on.

“So,” Thuggory began, “what brings you here, Astrid?”

“We all came,” Astrid subtly corrected, “because our entire fleet just left on urgent business. Business that had something to do with your tribe.”

Thuggory eyed her warily. He knew exactly where his father and their warriors had gone, for he was supposed to be on the ship at his father’s side. But if the Hooligans were now involved, it could only spell bad news for all of them. Seeing that he was clearly holding back information to hopefully spare her emotions, Astrid impatiently egged him on.

“You know what’s going on, don’t you Thuggory?”

“Of course I do, but I purposely am not involved for a reason. I adamantly refused to participate in Mogadon’s selfish escapades,” he replied, referring to his father by first name as if to distance himself from his blood-ties with the man. “When the time comes, I’m going to lead the Meathead tribe my way. I’m not going to be like him.”

For a moment, Astrid had trouble responding. It was difficult for the Hooligans to understand the boy’s attitude; Stoick the Vast was an excellent chief, beloved and respected by his people, and Hiccup had certainly proven himself to be a worthy heir. Although, until recently the entire Isle had had their doubts about him…

Astrid nearly gasped aloud. Hiccup had, until recently, been the laughing stock of the village: the worst Viking Berk had ever seen, the butt of every snide joke from Snotlout or Tuffnut, the victim of everyone’s abuse. Becoming chief had surely been the very last thing on Hiccup’s mind his entire life. Now, amidst a rapidly developing society, he was suddenly expected to be prepared to accept a role he had never even dreamt of holding. No one – especially not Hiccup, quiet and introverted as he’d always been – could ever adapt to that much expectation and pressure so quickly.

Of course he left, and she could barely fault him for it. It made so much sense that Astrid could slam her head against the table in front of her for not seeing it sooner. However, she restrained herself given that such sudden, self-directed violence may perplex her present company, and instead returned her attention from the heir who was missing-in-action to the heir sitting across from her. Despite his willingness to help the Hooligans, his disdain for whatever his father was planning to do clamped his mouth shut.

“Thuggory,” Astrid pleaded, “You don’t have to be involved. It’s not your fight. We just need to know what’s happening.”

Thuggory laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, but I would end up involved Astrid. I’d have to be. If I tell you where they are I know you’ll go running off to try to stop them. I’d bet my best axe that’s exactly what Stoick did.”

“All the more reason for us to know too!” Thuggory took a step back and the Hooligans leaned back in their chairs, eyes wide. Astrid wondered why until she discovered she had risen to her feet, fists on the table. She exhaled. “Thuggory,” she tried again, “Hiccup could very well be in danger.”

“The Dragon Trainer?” Thuggory asked, stepping towards her again. “Why do you say that?”

Astrid held her breath. Though Thuggory was an ally, she was trusting him with dangerous information. She had to; it seemed to be the only way to get the information they needed to help Hiccup. “He’s gone,” she said.

Finally, Thuggory pulled out the chair at the head of the table where he had been standing and sat down across from her. “Fine,” he conceded. “They’ve gone to the southern lands, planning to head towards the kingdom of Conaille Muirtheimne, south of Ulaidh. Mogadon plans to raid port villages on the outskirts before heading to the kingdom itself.”               

The southern lands. Hiccup would surely go to the south. No one in their right mind would travel north of Berk this time of the season; Berk itself was merely a few degrees south of Freezing to Death, as it were. If this was true and Hiccup really was somewhere south of Ulaidh, then he was almost certainly in danger of getting caught in the crossfire of a Meathead raid.

“But what would your dad want with Hiccup? And how does he know where he is?” Astrid questioned Thuggory. He merely shrugged his shoulders.

“Your guess is as good as mine, honestly,” he said. “He asked your warriors to join him, but Stoick refused.”

“Of course he refused; our tribe has finally had peace after centuries of war!”

“Clearly, I agree with you wholeheartedly,” Thuggory replied. “But then why, after refusing to participate in the raids, did Stoick follow him?”

“Because,” Fishlegs said, standing as every head in the room whipped towards the voice speaking for the first time in the exchange thus far, “that _must_ bewhere Hiccup is. Why else would Stoick get involved?”

With a sickening lurch of her stomach, Astrid realized Fishlegs was right. Hiccup was about to play victim in a Viking raid. Worse, a raid by the Meatheads, whose chief had been denied assistance from the Hooligans. As far as Mogadon was concerned, he was no better than the enemy.

Astrid stood. “Thank you, Thuggory, for everything,” she said, then immediately headed for the door. The other quickly followed her lead, pushing out into the bitter winter air and preparing their dragons for flight.

“Wait!” Thuggory called, following them out of the house, but stopping cold when he rounded to corner to see four dragons comfortably situated directly behind his house. The Meatheads knew of the battle that had ensued at the Nest, the discoveries the Horrendous Haddock boy had made, and that Berk had accepted dragons as elements of their everyday lives, but all of these tales sounded to the Meatheads as if they came from a work of fiction, not their neighboring Isle. They hadn’t, nor had any other tribes to his knowledge, adopted the ways of the Hooligans nor had any present plans to do so. The dragon raids were over, and that was enough for them. Therefore, Thuggory kept his distance while the visitors prepared for departure. “What are you going to do?”

Astrid smiled cheekily at him as she mounted her dragon. “Probably something stupid.”

Thuggory rolled his eyes. “Great, but your village has already done that by following Mogadon.”

“Then something crazy,” she replied, and with that the teens took off into the graying sky. More snow was coming soon, but by the time it fell, they would be halfway to the southern lands. Mogadon wouldn’t stand a chance against the Hooligans.

They had dragons.

~~~

“Are you quite finished in here?”            

“Mm,” Hiccup merely hummed in response. He couldn’t be bothered to form full sentences, not when he was so close to finishing this project. Toothless’ new tailfin and riggings had been finished for days now. The nagging thought at the back of his mind that demanded he and Toothless return to Berk as soon as possible had been continually ignored until it progressively became smaller and quieter, at this point nearly disappearing altogether. The tailfin, their ticket back to the Isle, sat neglected in the corner behind Hiccup’s workbench. Complacent, his mind barely registered that it was there anymore. Partially due to the new sketches and papers piling on top of it, but also because Hiccup simply didn’t want to. Celebrating Samhain in the village with Regan and all these new people, people who didn’t know him and didn’t judge him, was wildly refreshing, almost as cleansing as flying.

But not quite. Thus, the fin again would accompany him back to the forest tonight. He and Toothless would soar over the inlet, undetectable by the village in the blackness of the night sky, before touching down again at the break of dawn. Then back to the corner the fin would go, to wait to be used the next day, whether it was to return to Berk or just to fly over the coasts of Ireland once again. No longer plagued by guilt, his happiness was too potent to even think of it, Hiccup didn’t know if he could bring himself to turn north. The village could survive perfectly fine without him and Toothless. He could cherish this freedom for a little longer, a few more days at most, before returning. He at least deserved that.

“Quite frankly, humming does not provide much insight,” Regan quipped, leaving her place in the doorway and entering the forge. “You’ll have to use your words.”

“Ner…” Hiccup mumbled again. His focus was intensely trained on the project in front of him. The epiphany Hiccup had had concerning his most recent schematics had finally taken physical form. The nearly finished product lay on the workbench in front of him. He only had a few more adjustments to make before he could show Toothless…

“I thought you already finished the tail?” Regan asked, peering at the contraption in front of Hiccup.

“I did,” he replied. “This is different. You see…”

“Yes, splendid, you can tell me all about it tomorrow during daylight hours when all of the normal people are awake. Currently, they are asleep, as I ought to be. Which means I need you out of my forge.”

“’Kay…” Hiccup mumbled without moving.

“Soon.”

“I gotcha…”

“ _Now_!” Regan all but picked Hiccup clean up off of his stool and pushed him out the door.

“Regan! Wait, I’m almost finished!” he pleaded, struggling to turn back as she steadily shoved him between the shoulder blades towards the forge exit, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Oh, you’ll get another chance tomorrow, don’t you worry,” she stated firmly. “Before or after I kick your behind sparring, completely up to you.” Hiccup rolled his eyes. Over the past days, Regan had insisted on tutoring him in swordplay. While he had had some training in his younger years, before it was decided he was utterly hopeless and his lessons were discontinued, the smaller girl had repeatedly “kicked his behind” despite her considerable height disadvantage. Both noted, however, Hiccup had quickly picked up a few tricks from watching her, and if he were given a few more days was confident he could put at least match over her.

Before he could vocalize his intentions to do so, Regan had him out the door before he could even open his mouth to retort. Dumbfounded, he was so busy wondering how such a small person had managed to move him so quickly that he had to scramble to catch the tailfin when it was flung at him from inside the forge.

“’Night, Hiccup!”             

Indignant, Hiccup considered leaving without bidding her goodnight as well. However, he caved “’Night, Regan,” he called into the darkness of the forge. “You owe me an explanation tomorrow!” he demanded.

“No explanation necessary. It’s sleep time.”

“But I…”

“ _Oíche mhaith_ , _A_ _ileag_!”

Hiccup took her use of Gaelic to effectively exile him to the forest for the time being, at least until daylight hours. Which, aside from being prevented from finishing his project, Hiccup did not mind in the least. Turning on his heel, he sprinted up the knoll towards the forest, tailfin in hand.

~~~

It did not take him long to find his dragon. Lately, they had been moving camp closer and closer to the edge of the wood; it was much easier for Hiccup to go into town in the mornings, and at this point he felt safe enough here to do so. When Toothless saw the boy and the tailfin that he carried, the dragon immediately perked up from his position curled up on the ground.

“Hey, bud,” Hiccup greeted, smiling, “Up for a quick flight?”

Toothless all but wagged his tail in response. Hiccup laughed aloud. “That’s what I thought,” he said, moving to affix the tailfin and rigging to the dragon. He worked quickly, as jittery with excitement as Toothless was. “Toothless, you have to stop moving or we’ll never get in the air!” Hiccup laughed. In response, Toothless became even more fidgety, all but jumping out of reach before Hiccup could buckle the saddle. Hiccup could have sworn the dragon laughed when one particularly speedy jump out of Hiccup’s reach resulted in the boy falling face forward on the frosty ground.

“Ah,” Hiccup smirked, raising his eyebrows. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” Toothless lowered himself to the ground, ready to spring away at a moment’s notice, nearly sniggering with delight. “Alrighty then,” Hiccup conceded, leaning back and dropping his arms to his sides.

For a moment the Night Fury’s eyes questioned the boy, who appeared dejected rather than invigorated by what Toothless thought was an incredibly inventive game. As quickly as it came, the moment passed when Hiccup spun around, ready to pounce. “Game on!”

Hiccup proceeded to relentlessly chase the Night Fury around the campsite, brandishing the saddle as he went. Toothless continued to leap out of his reach with ease, dodging Hiccup’s every attempt to pounce, foreseeing every sneak attack. As he chased, Hiccup made a mental note to never enter a serious game of tag with Toothless; the Night Fury was clearly a master. Finally, out of breath both from running and laughing until he was in stitches, Hiccup collapsed on his back, hugging the saddle to his chest. Toothless sidled over to him, folding his forepaws over the saddle and laying his head down. Hiccup chuckled at his delirious expression.

“Well, someone looks very pleased with themselves,”

Toothless snorted in agreement, settling his head on the boy’s stomach.

“I’d hardly rank beating a crippled human in a game of tag very high on my list of victories,” Hiccup deadpanned. Toothless huffed at the boy; a victory was a victory, regardless of the circumstances. Hiccup rolled his eyes. Overly pleased with himself, as always; the dragon would never change. He was consistent, dependable. One of the many reasons Hiccup loved his best friend more than he could put into words. Sometimes, such things could only be expressed via impromptu games of tag.

“If you’re quite finished gloating,” Hiccup said, “we can go flying now if you’d like.” Toothless opened his eyes from where they were closed in his expression of contentment. Once again alert, he eagerly licked Hiccup’s face to show his approval of the proposed plan.

“Uggh, Toothless, why? Why?” Hiccup lamented as he struggled to free his arms to wipe the rancid dragon saliva off his face. Oblivious, Toothless rose to free the boy and moved to wait for him at the forest’s edge as Hiccup picked himself up off the ground to finish preparing the saddle. Finally ready for flight, the pair bent low to the ground.

“Ready, bud?”

Toothless didn’t even have to acknowledge the question. His answer resounded in the force with which they took off from the ground, the speed of their ascent, and the exhilaration they both felt being in the sky once again. Cloaked under the night sky, they banked to skim the Irish coast, too fast for anyone to even register they had passed. They would be merely a phantasm, a dream. Only the moon would know they were even there.

They were home. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Why not stay and be caught?  
> You think, well, it's a thought.  
> What would be his response?”  
> ~ On the Steps of the Palace: Into the Woods

_Chapter 10_

Mogadon couldn’t remember the last time a night had been so perfect for sailing. Though the biting cold of winter had definitely established itself in the frigid sea air, the water was calm and the wind was steady, helping rather than hindering their progress toward the mainland. The night was clear without even the slightest hint of approaching fog. Not long ago the men were cheering at their first sight of the mainland in the distance as they approached the northern coast of Ireland. Their ultimate goal, however, waited further south.

The Meathead fleet continued on past northern Uí Néill and crept along the coast, cutting silently through the water, invisible from the shore. Judging by their current progress, they would moor in Linn Dúachaill by next daybreak. Those farmers wouldn’t know what hit them. There wouldn’t even be time to send word to Conaille Muirtheimne; when Meathead forces reached the kingdom, they would be defenseless. Conaille Muirtheimne would no longer be a kingdom under Ulaidh; they would be a kingdom under Norman control. It wouldn’t be long before the other great kingdoms of Ulaidh would fall. The mere thought of all the power, the land, the potent influence his tribe would have to spread through the land pleased Mogadon to no end. The Meathead clan had always been, and would continue to be, the greatest Viking tribe of the Archipelago. It was about time that they were able to conquer and expand, undeterred by the incessant need to defend themselves from dragon raids. It would all be his in a matter of hours. The next morning’s sun could not pierce the horizon soon enough.

“Chief!”

One of the Meathead warriors approached the chief where he stood at the longboat’s bow observing the coast as they passed undetected. Mogadon slowly turned from his post, somehow believing that staring in the direction of his distant goal might bring him there sooner.

“Speak,” he instructed the messenger, pacing back to his post at the bow.

The messenger swallowed, suddenly afraid to do anything else for fear of his life. “Ah, we’ve received a response from the Hooligan’s chief,” he declared. There was silence. Frightened to speak again without express permission, the messenger again waited.

“And?” Mogadon impatiently prompted.

“Stoick the Vast declines to declare alliance in this matter.”

The silence that followed felt like an age to the envoy, who presently feared that the Meathead chief would in fact shoot the messenger, against the recommendation of the adage. However, without turning to face him, Mogadon simply nodded.

“The Hooligans won’t be joinin’ us then? Fine,” Mogadon conceded. “Their loss.” The other man took the chief’s statement as a dismissal, and quickly left to return to his post among the other men.

Stoick refused his request? No matter. By morning they would reach the shores of Linn Dúachaill and easily take the village, Hooligans or no. Their forces would move inland, and one by one each village under Conaille Muirtheimne would fall. Finally, after centuries of waiting, their dream of expansion to the south would become a reality. There was no doubt in Mogadon’s mind.

They would emerge victorious.

~~~

Light was just breaking over the horizon when dragon and rider returned to the village. They swept in over the forest, touching down at the edge of the trees, the same place from where they had taken off not long ago in the early hours of the morning. The time spent flying felt to Hiccup like an eternity compressed to pass in the blink of an eye; the freedom he had been allowed to taste in his time away from Berk was more apparent, more potent in the skies over Linn Dúachiall, and he could never happily leave it. It had only been a little over a week since the last time they flew, but gods, how they both had missed it.

Most of all, Hiccup thought as he removed his harness, the flight proved that he didn’t _have_ to return to Berk. At least not immediately. He had almost been afraid to jump in the saddle, anxious that if he made himself able, he would feel obligated to return, and heart-wrenchingly guilty if he failed to. However, Hiccup found neither of these reactions occupied his mind: only a freedom that he had not previously known, which he readily embraced.

“Hiccup!”

He paused in unbuckling the saddle and whipped his head around to face the girl as she dashed towards him from the village square. Her progress up the knoll was slower than usual as she stumbled every so often over her own feet in her haste. He allowed himself to chuckle at the girl’s apparent eagerness.

“Good to see you too, Regan, but I haven’t even been gone half the morning,” he called out, aiming his jibe at the uncharacteristic enthusiasm with which she approached him. She failed to respond to his words, keeping her head down and focusing every ounce of her energy into maintaining her stride. As she drew closer he could hear her gasping, panting desperately for oxygen. He wondered just how far she had run to meet him.

Toothless prodded Hiccup’s back with the crest of his nose, effectively deciding that they needed to move forward to meet the frantic girl; something was clearly wrong. Spurred by Regan’s hysterics and Toothless’ cue, Hiccup began sprinting, meeting the girl a few paces from the foot of the knoll.

He skidded to a halt in front of her, but the girl could not bring herself to move any further. Winded, she folded over, supporting her torso only by digging her palms into her knees. Her hair was damp and ragged. Dirt smeared her shins and forearms. From what Hiccup could tell, she appeared to have travelled all the way from the far side of Ulaidh.

“Are you okay?” He bent and threw her shaking arm over his shoulder. Exhausted, she let Hiccup support nearly all of her weight as he aided her progress the few paces back to the foot of the knoll where Toothless lie in wait.

Unhooking her arm from his shoulders, Hiccup seated the girl against the Toothless’ side and darted to the dragon’s saddle pack. While he rooted through his supplies in search of his waterskin, he heard her groan as her breathing began to deepen. She was delirious – muscles and mind utterly deprived of energy. Waterskin in hand, Hiccup moved swiftly around Toothless to the girl who was crumpled against the dragon’s side. Her panting had slowed enough so lift the water to her lips and force her to drink. She immediately coughed and sputtered, but slowly was able to sip intermittently from the skin. Hiccup was desperate to clear her mind enough to communicate coherently.

“They’re…here…” she finally muttered, as weary emotionally as she was physically.

Sickening knots clenched in the pit of Hiccup’s stomach.

“Who?”

“Northerners,” she spat with the breath she could muster. “Their ships. On the shores of Linn Duachaill.”

Hiccup nearly dropped the waterskin. He suddenly felt just as exhausted as she was. He pressed an arm against Toothless in an attempt to steady himself, but collapsed against the dragon instead, slumping to the ground next to Regan.

“Did you see anything on their ships? A crest? Anything that could tell us who they are?”

Closing her eyes, Regan focused on the quickly fading memory of the glimpse she caught of the longboats’ sails before she tore headlong in the other direction.

“It was a dragon…with a big round tail. Small wings,” she said, fearing that such little information would be useless. But Hiccup knew immediately exactly who had landed on their shores.

Meatheads. The tribe of Berk’s neighboring island had just been given a chance to breathe after centuries of war, and the Meatheads chose now to launch offensive attacks? He couldn’t fathom what the Meatheads could possibly hope to gain. Although, he noted grimly, striking at the most unexpected time was precisely something Mogadon would do; no village preparing for winter right after the end of festivals could possibly hope to raise defenses in time. Hiccup doubted the small farming village could even raise substantial defenses at all.

Hiccup turned to Regan, whose breathing was slowly returning to a manageable rate. “How many ships are there?”

“I…I couldn’t count, I just saw them and ran.” Her eyes were trained on the waterskin in her hands, the image of foreign ships invading the shores of her home once again burned into her vision. “It was just like the last time,” she breathed, and Hiccup sensed she was on the verge of another round of hysterics. He moved to sit in front of her and folded her shaking hands in his.

“This will not be like the last time,” he tried to reassure, but Regan frantically shook her head before he could finish speaking.

“They’re already here, Hiccup! I don’t know how to stop them now.”

“We can’t stop them now,” Hiccup somberly confirmed. She nearly choked out a sob, but held it back for fear of losing her mind completely. “Regan, it’s going to be okay. We’ll figure something out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out! They’ll come and pillage and destroy as they please!” she countered, finally raising her eyes from her trembling hands in front of her where they were detained in Hiccup’s to speak directly to him. “ I…I don’t think my father will be able to handle this again,” she said quietly letting her face fall into her knees, and as she did Hiccup saw the girl’s fiery disposition extinguish with the last of her hope. The girl who he knew inherently fought for everyone and everything she believed in was done fighting. Hiccup was not.

“Listen to me,” he said again, and something unshakable in his voice compelled her to lift her face from her knees. “This _will not_ be like the last time. I promise.” Motioning for Toothless to follow him, Hiccup stood, pulling Regan to her feet, and started toward the village.

“What are we doing?” she asked, struggling to move one exhausted leg in front of the other across the frostbitten ground.

“We need to at least warn the village,” Hiccup replied. “And you need to find your dad.”

Before Regan could open her mouth to ask why, they reached the edge of the square. Hiccup turned and held her by the shoulders to ensure her comprehension. “Go tell everyone who will believe you to evacuate, to hide in the forest, and just get them as far away from here as you can. Then meet Toothless and me back here with your dad.”

She opened her mouth again to question him, to somehow glean some logical connection to his commands, but decided against it. At this point, her life and the life of her father depended upon Hiccup. Blind trust was her only option, and as far as she was concerned, Hiccup had already proven himself more than worthy of it. Nodding, she ran away from him to the east of the village.

“C’mon, bud,” Hiccup said waving for Toothless to follow him. “We’re going to fix this.”

~~~

The pair made their way around the edge of the village square. It was early enough that the square was still empty, but Hiccup stopped and turned to Toothless before entering the square regardless. Though it was most likely safe to let the villagers see Toothless, they were also currently being warned of an impending invasion, and he deemed it unwise to introduce an unfamiliar creature to a panicked crowd. Hiccup was not about to take any chances.

“I’ll be right back, bud, just wait here,” he said quickly before leaving the dragon and darting towards to forge.

When he entered, the forge was in the same state he had left it mere hours before. It was a million times more organized than Gobber’s had ever been, even on its best day, which allowed Hiccup to follow a direct path to his workbench in the corner. His project still sat on the surface, unfinished but safe and functional, and Hiccup thanked Odin for his ridiculous work ethic that forced him to complete it thus far the night before. Gathering the tail under his arm, Hiccup rushed out of the forge once again to meet Toothless where he left him at the town’s edge.

When Hiccup approached him, Toothless eyed the foreign tailfin under the boy’s arm skeptically.

“Don’t worry bud,” Hiccup reassured as he moved to the dragon’s tail to attach the new prosthetic. Under different conditions, Hiccup would have been happier to show Toothless the new design, excited even. A tail that the dragon could operate on his own meant that Hiccup was giving back the independent flight that he would never forgive himself for taking. Now, with an impending raid closing in on them, the only thing Hiccup could feel was determination.

Hesitant, Toothless investigated the new tailfin, jumping in surprise when it opened by itself. As he watched the new prosthetic open and close to mimic his own tailfin, anxiety seized the dragon’s mind. He wouldn’t need Hiccup to fly. While normally the concept would be intriguing enough to motivate him to at least try flying on his own again, Toothless was well aware of the danger surrounding their current position. If the boy expected to be _left_ him here, unprotected…

“Don’t worry, Toothless,” Hiccup repeated, seeing the panic in his dragon’s eyes. He placed a soothing hand on his snout. “Everything will be fine.” Utterly unconvinced, Toothless’ expression didn’t change. Frankly, Hiccup didn’t convince himself either. He was prevented from explaining himself any further when Regan approached with her father.

“Hiccup!” she called, and ran from her father to meet him as he approached. She eyed the tailfin under his arm for a split second before disregarding the topic, knowing this was no time to question him. “I warned as many people as I could. Not many seemed to believe me.”

Hiccup grimaced, though he had expected as much. “Who would want to?”

The girl grimaced as well, agreeing that no one would. “At least we tried.”

“Right,” Hiccup replied. They tried, and now it was Hiccup’s job to make sure they succeeded. He handed his harness over to Regan. “Toothless will take you and your dad back to Berk. You’ll be safe there.”

Regan’s eyes widened as she stared at the harness that had been placed in her hands, barely registering Hiccup’s words. This time she couldn’t concede without argument. “You want me to leave? But…”

“You need to go with your dad to make sure he’s okay,” Hiccup countered before she could speak. “Talk to my father. Tell him that the Meatheads have invaded Linn Dúachiall and that I sent you to send reinforcements.” Though reluctant to drag anyone else into the brewing conflict, Hiccup knew better than to go into the fray and confront Mogadon alone when there were innocent lives at stake. The Hooligan warriors could certainly hold their own against the Meatheads, especially on dragon-back.

“Your father?” Regan questioned.

“The chief. Stoick the Vast,” Hiccup replied. His secret had officially been blown.

In any other situation she may have given Hiccup a direct punch to the face, in all likelihood accompanied by accusatory shrieking for keeping such an enormous aspect of his identity secret. Luckily, Regan was simply too overwhelmed to do more than accept his words.

“Okay,” she agreed, and Hiccup was suddenly transported back to the cove not months ago when he stood with Astrid in the moonlight reflected off the rippling lake. He watched her as she spoke incessantly, enthused with their new findings. They had been shown the nest that their ancestors had been searching for relentlessly for centuries. The nest that Hiccup absolutely needed to keep a secret from his father.

“To protect your pet dragon?” she had asked, incredulous. She worried if she had even heard him properly.

“Yes.” Hiccup’s response was resolute, leaving no doubt in her mind of his intentions. The idea of keeping the nest a secret from the chief, from Hiccup’s own _father_ , was unfathomable to Astrid. It directly opposed everything she had ever known, ever believed. Yet the absolute certainty of Hiccup’s answer caught her off guard. She wondered if she had ever heard the awkward, bitterly sarcastic boy ever say something with that much conviction in her life. Or stand so tall. Even his posture, strong as opposed to its customary insecure slouch, supported his statement. There was no way for her not to believe in someone who was that steadfastly committed to their words.

“Okay,” she had finally conceded.

Just as Regan did. Regan showed him the same trust that Astrid had in the cove. Both believed in him even after discovering his secrets and lies. Both trusted him when it mattered most. Hiccup nodded, both in acknowledgement of her agreement to his plan and in thanks.

“Let your dad know what the plan is.” With a nod, Regan ran back to her dad, leaving Hiccup to turn to Toothless.

The dragon was clearly anxious, experimenting with the tail, uncomfortable with the foreign mechanism. His eyes bore into Hiccup’s own, worry permeating his brow. Hiccup placed his hands on Toothless’ head, stroking his snout in an effort to placate the dragon as well as himself. “It’ll be okay, bud, I promise.” Unconvinced, Toothless moaned and nuzzled his head against the boy’s hands. Hiccup couldn’t blame the dragon for doubting his words; from the way his voice was shaking he could barely convince himself. All assurance from his conversation with Regan had left him, leaving him vulnerable and afraid. For the life of him, Hiccup could not pinpoint _why_.

Exhaling, Hiccup closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Toothless’ scaly snout. The dragon gurgled, and the sound travelled through Hiccup, calming him to his core. Together, he and Toothless were capable of anything. Nothing stood a chance against them: not ancient dragon demons, not vicious hordes of raiding Vikings. The thought of facing Mogadon on his own terrified Hiccup more than he could ever say. The thought of leaving Hiccup alone, even for a short time, to face whatever danger was clearly coming terrified Toothless even more.

But he could do it. Toothless believed in him, whether he was physically there to support the boy or not. Hiccup only needed to believe in himself as well.

“We’ll see each other soon. I promise,” Hiccup said, pulling his face back to look Toothless in the eyes. “It’s you and me, bud.”

Hiccup could read Toothless’ whole-hearted agreement clear as day in the eyes that stared back at him.

Turning from Toothless’ gaze, Hiccup called to Regan and her father. The two villagers came and mounted Toothless’ saddle, following Hiccup’s instructions. Immediately, Toothless crouched and took off into the sky. Hiccup watched them disappear and then turned his attention toward the village behind him.

It was time to fix this.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The clouds gather s’more!
> 
> I just love my Hiccup Toothless bro love. EDIT: I loved that bit in “When Lightning Strikes” that was basically this scene, I freaked out a little when I saw it.
> 
> So basically I made Mogadon a giant ass. I’ve only met him once in the books (because I’m bad and only read the first three and the seventh. I’ll fix that…after I finish my school reading), so if he’s actually not that bad a dude I apologize profusely to any and all Mogey fans.
> 
> I also realized that the partay scene I dappled in writing, when Hiccup partied it up on the last night of Samhain, is more important than I originally thought it to be. I was thinking about including it to introduce other villagers and connect Hiccup to his new home a bit more, which would intensify his feelings of responsibility to protect it. At the time I just thought it was unnecessary fluff. Hindsight is 20/20 =/ Maybe I’ll go back and include it. EDIT: I diddddd
> 
> How to Train Your Dragon © DreamWorks Animation and Cressida Cowell
> 
> Into the Woods © Lapine, Sondheim


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